


Under Midnight Skies

by fjwarlock



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Androids, Angst, Blood and Injury, British English, Canon Compliant on a technical basis only, Developing Relationship, Domestic Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Gavin Reed Being an Asshole, Hank Anderson Adopts Connor, M/M, Minor Original Chloe | RT600/Elijah Kamski, Peaceful Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Slow Burn, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:55:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 66,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28248006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fjwarlock/pseuds/fjwarlock
Summary: Dr. Reuben Kravtsova is a psychologist that is tossed anywhere the DPD need him. Just so happens a rogue android and a hostage situation throw him into the depths of a revolution. This is his route.Following the peaceful protest revolution pathway. Going to add some filler chapters.
Relationships: Connor (Detroit: Become Human)/Original Male Character(s), Connor (Detroit: Become Human)/Original Trans Character(s), Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	1. The Hostage

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter takes place within The Hostage. Trigger warnings to include: swearing, descriptions of violence, unbeta-ed writing, potentially OOC characterisations, British spellings.

It was the usual routine to have a psychologist onsite when it came to hostage cases. Whether that be to advice on how to talk down the victim, or to deal with the aftermath, they were a core part of the machine when it came to these situations. 

That being said, Reuben had never been assigned a hostage situation before. 

He rushed up the stairs, trainers slapping noisily on the concrete flooring. His briefcase had notes and files spilling out of the hinges, training notes that he had barely even thought to look at before now. There hadn’t been, well, any cases like this before. An android kidnapping a human? A little girl? If word got out, it could be a disaster not just for Cyberlife, but for Detroit as a whole. And the police department would be blamed for not having it all under control. 

Not that Reuben would disagree. The department was a mess at the best of times. 

“Dr. Kravtsova, psychologist.” Reuben started, flashing his I.D card to the officer standing guard at the door. The officer just nodded before letting him in, not even offering a glance at his I.D card while he walked swiftly inside. 

The apartment was nice.  _ Too nice _ by any of Reuben’s standards. He got the impression that there wasn’t much love that went into this place. The parents were probably workaholics that left their child with their Android babysitter for most of the day, leaving the Android to grow attached and fulfill that parental role that they didn’t get from their biological parents. There was also the blood, so much so that Reuben had to force himself to not add his stomach contents to the mixture on the floor. It had stained the white carpet, splattered over the windows and sofas. He had never realised just  _ how much _ blood humans produced - and if he was very honest, which he was, he didn’t exactly want to dwell on it any longer. 

Almost every SWAT trained officer in Detroit was piled up in that room, or at least it felt like it as far as Reuben was concerned. Everywhere he moved there were at least five armed soldiers in his peripheral vision all facing the shattered window in the main living area. Vaguely he could hear someone shouting outside, someone he suspected to be the Android kidnapper. Through the glass, Reuben couldn’t exactly make out much of what he was saying, but he knew that it sounded… Desperate, upset, maybe even unhinged? 

“Dr Reuben Kravtsova, you requested my assistance.” Reuben started formally, standing behind the Captain’s back. He let out a huff of breath before turning around, his hands clasped behind his back and all colour drained from his face. The Captain looked more tired than usual. 

“Ah, right. Cyberlife sent one of their specialists down. I know it ain’t ideal but have a chat with it, saving the kid is the most important thing, if the droid fails then we will swoop you in.” 

Cyberlife? What the fuck was Cyberlife doing here? Other than the potential hush-hush of deviant behaviour, he couldn’t really think as to why there would be any need for a  _ specialist _ ? The Captain’s tone made it clear that this was an Android specialist and not one with red blood like themselves. But, hey, it could be a learning experience. Plus, Reuben had rather limited experiences with Androids apart from retail workers, baristas and helpers around Detroit. 

He turned on his heel, making his way towards a purple coloured room. If the specialist was looking for clues to how to approach the situation, discovering the relationship between the kidnapper and the hostage would be an ideal place to start. If it was already hostile, then the situation would be more confusing than he first thought, but if the relationship was healthy, friendly even, then there would be a much clearer path on how to recover the hostage alive. 

The room was pitch dark save for the reflection of the computer screen. Hovering over one of the tablet pads was who he assumed to be was the Cyberlife specialist. If his uniform was anything to go by then he was probably a brand new model created for this entire purpose, because of course Cyberlife couldn’t just use one of their already created models and give them a new purpose. Bitterness aside, Reuben decided to get a good look of this particular android before he made himself known. 

He was approximately 6’2 in height and was built to mirror that of an athletic male in the prime of his life. His hair was swept neatly to the side, much unlike Reuben’s own bird nest of hair, and his blue LED light swirled consistently, giving out a small glow in the already dark room. His skin was pale, probably to make him more aesthetically pleasing to the police department and to build some form of trust between them. A tragic idea but one that Reuben was inclined to believe. 

He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I am Dr Reuben Kravtsova, the resident psychologist here at DPD.” Reuben held out his hand for the specialist to shake. “I was hoping to discuss what we could do about the hostage situation.” 

The specialist looked down at his hand before giving it a firm shake. It was the perfect handshake, not firm enough to be intimidating, but not loose enough to come across as weak-willed. 

“My name is Connor. I am the android sent from Cyberlife to help contain the deviant situation.” Connor started, passing over the tablet towards Reuben, which he took gratefully. “I have discovered that the deviant’s name is Daniel, and that Emma views him as her best friend.” 

“So it seems they have a healthy relationship, apart from some codependency on his part.” 

Connor nodded. “It seems that Daniel was going to be replaced by Mr Philips, that is the most likely catalyst to his deviant status.” 

“He thinks he is going to be separated from his only friend in the world, no wonder he has had such an adverse emotional reaction. This is traumatic for him. He is acting out of upset and anger instead of any true malice towards Emma.” Reuben hummed. It made the situation a lot more simple than he thought - if he was human. If Daniel was purely human, he could appeal to his emotional side, the side that cared for Emma’s safety and wellbeing. But there was always a chance that he had turned that off in order to deal with the crimes he had committed. 

Though, once someone had begun feeling, was there any way to truly go back? 

“He is not restricted by violence, he has already committed two homicides. Mr Philips and Private Dockhart are deceased.” Connor continued. 

“Are you worried he is going to hurt you?” Reuben asked, placing his finger against his own lips in thought. 

“No.” 

“Right.” He was worried for a second about Connor’s apparent lack of emotion at the situation he was in, but the blue LED light on his temple alluded as to why. He was, for all intents and purposes, a machine. It was very difficult to harm a machine. “My advice is to start off down the sympathy route. Appeal to his care for Emma and his need to keep her safe, assure him they can still be together and that something can be arranged.” 

“Even though that is not true?” 

“Giving him hope means there is a better chance of getting the kid back alive.” Reuben said firmly, unable to help himself. “I’ll be just behind you, I’ll get Captain Allen to give you an earpiece so I can talk you through the interaction.” 

“That would be much appreciated, Dr Kravtsova.” Connor nodded, walking out the room towards where Captain Allen was standing over the security footage of the situation. Reuben was hot on his heels, quickening his pace so that he was standing adjacent Connor. “In recommendation by Dr Kravtsova, I would like an earpiece so that Dr Kravtsova would be able to communicate with me through the interaction with the deviant.” 

Captain Allen raised his brows and looked towards Reuben, who nodded in agreement with what Connor was saying. 

“Hook yourself up to this walkie talkie then get out there. We can’t waste anymore time.” 

It only took a couple of seconds for Connor to connect himself to the radio’s waves, and a few more seconds after that for Reuben to work out what he was doing with the damn thing. Just as Connor approached the blinds outside, he could hear a static voice in his ear from across the room where Reuben sat in front of a live video feed. 

_ “Hey, Connor. Good luck.”  _

Connor brushed his hand across the soft linen curtains. He barely needed to move his hand for them to pull out of the way, giving him full access to the balcony outside. As soon as he stepped outside, a gunshot cried out throughout the apartment. Reuben immediately got to his feet, rushing over to where Captain Allen was standing with walkie-talkie in hand. Emma screamed from outside, shrill and even more panicked than before. 

_ “Connor! Connor, are you alright?” _

His heart was in his throat, the blood rushing to his ears where he could hear his heartbeat thrum. 

There was a beat of silence. 

“I am alright, Doctor.” 

“Oh thank god.” Reuben let out a breath of relief, placing his hand across his chest in a vain attempt to soothe his nerves. Captain Allen sent him a sideways glance. 

Outside, Connor could see the splatter of his own therium against the windows, dribbling down onto the marble tile below. With a brief check, all his core systems were undamaged, he was ready to continue. His LED light switched back to blue as he regained his composure. 

“Stay back! Stay back or I’ll jump!” Daniel shouted over, his gun not wavering from his hand. As soon as Emma opened her mouth to speak, the gun was pressed against her temple once again. Reuben let out an involuntary wince. He watched as Connor looked across the buildings to the SWAT teams that swarmed the rooftops, setting up their snipers ready for the latest showdown. There was a worrying nag at the back of his mind that wondered if they’d be so reckless to shoot Connor too. 

“Hi Daniel! My name is Connor.” Connor started, shouting across to where Daniel and Emma were situated at the end of the balcony. 

_ “Take it easy. Don’t move any closer now. Establish a connection.”  _

“How do you know my name?” 

“I know many things about you. I’ve come to get you out of this!” Reuben let out a short sigh of relief. Good. Connor wasn’t going on the offensive. He was approaching as the good Samaritan. But that relief was short lived as a helicopter flew past the balcony, causing Reuben to curse. 

“For fucks sake are you insane? Get the chopper out of there!” Reuben whispered angrily to Allen. “Intimidating the deviant will do nothing to help that little girl.” 

“Cool your heels, Mr Kravtsova.” Captain Allen whispered back, giving him a warning glance. 

“It’s  _ Dr _ .” Reuben hissed. “I didn’t spend 5 years slaving at medical school for the fun of it, y’know?” 

“I’m an android, just like you!” Over the live feed, Daniel appeared to get more distraught. “I know how you’re feeling!” 

Daniel shifted the gun from Emma towards Connor, tears turning his eyes glossy. “What difference does it make if you’re an android, you’re on their side!” 

_ “Go slowly, stay calm, you’re in control.”  _

“You can’t understand what I’m feeling.” Daniel paused for a beat. “Are you armed?” 

_ “Tell the truth. Drop the gun, Connor.”  _

“Yes. But I’m going to put it down, there’s no need to be concerned.” Connor slowly reached into his back pocket, fishing out the Cyberlife pistol that he had been given on his creation. He placed the gun gently on the ground before throwing it off into the far end of the balcony. “I know you and Emma were very close! You think she betrayed you but she’s done nothing wrong!” 

“She lied to me” The gun shifted again towards Emma’s temple. “I thought she loved me but I was wrong. She’s just like all the other humans.” The gun clicked as it was cocked. Reuben took a step closer to the window, peaking out the one in the corner furthest away from the door. He could see Connor, now only a few metres away from the deviant. He seemed so… Calm, as if the entire situation wasn’t even phasing him. 

Reuben idly wondered if this experience would have any sort of emotional affect. If so, it could prove that androids could be affected by trauma too. 

“They were going to replace you and you became upset, that’s what happened, right?” 

“I thought I was part of the family.” Daniel started, the arm holding the gun starting to go limp. “I thought I mattered… But I was just their tool! Something they could throw away when they were done with it.” 

Connor stepped forward another meter and all Reuben felt he could do was stare. 

“Listen, I know its not your fault. These emotions you are feeling are just errors in your software.” Connor started and Reuben almost hissed at him through the radio about how crass that could be taken. 

“No. Its not my fault. I never wanted this. I loved them, y’know?” Suddenly Daniel’s face shifted back to that of anger, pressing the gun firmly against Emma’s temple once more. “But I was nothing to them. Just a slave to be ordered around! Ugh, I can’t stand that noise anymore, tell that helicopter to get out of here!” 

_ “Do it, Connor, we can’t put Daniel under any more pressure.”  _

With a wave of his hand, Connor dismissed the chopper, and it flew off into the background. 

“There. I did what you wanted. You have to trust me, Daniel, let the hostage go and I promise you, everything will be fine.” 

A blatant lie, one that stirred uncomfortably in Reuben’s gut. There was something akin to empathy boiling in his stomach. How scared must he have been? To know that those who he called family were going to discard him for something better, something more shiny and new? And the only thing that would await him after that was death. Either way, his days were limited. 

“I want everyone to leave! And I want a car, when I am outside the city I’ll let her go.” 

“That’s impossible, Daniel. Let the girl go and I promise you won’t be hurt.” 

More promises that wouldn’t be kept. Reuben tore himself away from the window, pacing towards the back of the room, walkie-talkie pressed against his chest ready to be spoken into. 

_ “You’re almost there, Connor. Keep going.”  _

“I… I don’t wanna die.” Daniel said, and Reuben squeezed his eyes shut.  _ Fuck _ . 

“You’re not going to die, we’re just going to talk, nothing will happen to you, you have my word.” 

Reuben slumped himself down on one of the chairs that the DCPD had brought in. It was uncomfortable and creaky but he couldn’t bring himself to care right now. 

“Okay…” He could hear Daniel’s voice through the feed. There were a few bated breaths. There was a shot, and then another, and then another, and Emma’s screams could be heard from all through the apartment. 

“COULD YOU NOT HAVE FUCKING WAITED UNTIL THE GIRL  _ WASN’T _ WITNESS TO AN ASSASSINATION?” Reuben’s shouts rung across the apartment. He stormed across to Captain Allen, almost nose-to-nose with his superior. “What are you trying to do, huh? Letting a kid get kidnapped, hung over the edge of a building,  _ and _ be face-to-face with her android getting shot, are you all completely fucking APATHETIC?!” 

“Keep your cool, Dr Krackoff.” 

“It’s Kravtsova, you fucking prick.” Reuben tore of his ear-piece and slammed it to the ground, his radio quickly following suit, and walked as quickly as he could towards the door to the outside. Daniel kneeled motionless on the edge of the balcony, all light faded from his eyes and his LED had stopped producing its typical blue. 

He briefly touched Connor’s elbow to alert him to his presence. 

“Our mission was successful, Dr Kravtsova.” Connor started, but stopped when he recognised the anger splayed across Reuben’s features. 

“DPD has traumatised yet another child in order to fuel their bloodlust.” Reuben stated. “I have a feeling that Emma Philips is going to be a regular to my office, until we can pass her onto a trauma specialist… I don’t see this as a success.” 

“He said I lied to him. That he trusted me.” Connor spoke quietly. Reuben looked up at him, a furrowed, confused expression across his features. If he wasn’t mistaken, he was sure that he saw  _ emotion _ flicker over Connor’s features. 

“That’s because you did. You played the part well, I’ll give you that. I’m done here. Good luck in your investigation, Connor.” 

And with that, Connor watched as Reuben turned on his heel and walked back into the apartment. He grabbed his briefcase without breaking his stride and the android could hear the door close after him with a loud  _ thud _ . 


	2. The Harder They Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set just after Partners. Gavin is a dickhead, Reuben is tired, everything is a bit of a mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone had a happy holidays! Thank you to those who left kudos on the last chapter <3 
> 
> Trigger Warnings: Graphic Domestic Abuse, Internalised Transphobia, British English, unbeta-ed, Gavin being Gavin.

When does someone become a good person?

Are they born good? Is it innate into their DNA, some strange chemical equation that gives them happiness, empathy and light? Or is it a constant struggle for dominance over flaws? Is being _good_ something that needs to be constantly trained and worked on? 

Reuben didn’t have the answer to that question. But he knew that evil took many forms. 

He was 100% sure that Gavin Reed was one of them. 

Reuben had walked into the primary office of the homicide division, because of course giving a psychologist their own office was completely out of the question, to shouting, slamming and, infinitely more importantly, a two feet high pile of files. 

_Amazing_. 

“Does anyone want to tell me what this is for or am I going to have to work it out for myself?” Reuben called out amongst the chaos. He had barely even finished his cup of coffee this morning and now this? Fucking hell. Did he not have anything better to do than pick up after this unit - according to most, no, no he bloody didn’t. “Hello? If I don’t get anyone answering me in two seconds I’m going to assume its a mistake and dump these files on some random fuckers desk!” 

Well, that got their attention. 

Gavin Reed, looking positively boiling with anger, swiftly turned in Reuben’s direction. For a split second, Reuben regretted not just shutting up, looking through the files, and getting on with it. But where was the amusement in that? 

“Alright, Dr Crackden, pull that stick out of your ass for two seconds while the big boys have their morning conversation.” Gavin snapped, bringing what Reuben suspected to be a black-as-his-soul coffee to his lips. “That is occupational therapy. According to Fowler, we all need to have a session with you, a psych check up.” 

“Oh for fucks sake.” 

“Hey, this is what you were employed for, ain’t it?” Gavin didn’t hold back, slamming his empty mug down on Reuben’s desk so hard the psychologist flinched at its sound. “So there's the files of every shithead in the homicide department. I think the second half of that shit-tip are your appointments, though I dunno what you _actually_ do here.” 

“Look up the definition of a psychologist and you might find out.” Reuben rolled his eyes, flicking through the first few files and then taking a large chunk off, attempting to find the place where occupational files ended and his genuine appointments began. There would be a few crossovers because Reuben would be out of a job if there was no one needing his help to work through their emotions. Though at this point it felt that specialising in any form of psychology was a waste of time, he’d been a criminal psychologist for four years but the DPD chucked him anywhere they thought he might be useful anyway - which for now was occupational therapy.

“To work out what you are, I might need to look up a few fucking definitions.” 

Reuben immediately snapped his head upwards. He could feel his heart begin to raise a few beats, his hands gripping the files so tight he was sure that he was somehow going to leave indent marks on the pages. 

“Dare I even ask what that’s supposed to mean?” He sighed, looking down towards the files again. Finally he managed to find where his actual appointments today began. 10:15 was the first one, so he had almost an hour to plan out each of these appointments. “Y’know what? Forget it. When are you lot meant to be done by?” 

“Next week. HR has been getting on Fowler’s ass about it.” Gavin smirked. If Reuben didn’t know any better he would suspect that Gavin enjoyed seeing him squirm. “I got curious, managed to get into your file.” 

Reuben’s cheeks flared crimson. “ _That_ is illegal.” 

Gavin grinned. “I got leverage over your pristine little ass, Crackden. So you follow the rules, do what I tell you, and maybe I’ll be nice enough to not leak it to the whole damn department.” Gavin’s eyes flickered across Reuben’s face, watching the redness slowly creep up his neck. “Got it? Good.” 

Reuben bit the inside of his cheek in response, a scowl gracing his features. So not only did he have a mountain of interviews, paperwork, and bullshit to get through by next week, but how he had Gavin’s potentially empty threats to contend with. 

“If anyone wants to run to the cafeteria and grab me a cappuccino, I’ll be nice to them in my reports!” Reuben called out to the room but his voice was drowned out by the hum of everyone getting ready to start their shifts. 

He pushed the pile of police files to the farthest side of the desk. None of them gave a shit about any sort of psych check-up, or psychological assessment to give it its true name, so a quick glance just before the appointment would probably do him fine. The usual suspects for weekly appointments came up rather quickly; Sarah White, she was still trying to work through a fatal self-defence situation; Hank Anderson, forced into therapy by Fowler, Reuben had just made progress on the death of his son; Emma Philips, because DPD didn’t want to pull in a child psychologist they lumped him with the task of helping Emma process the hostage situation, she was doing well all things considered, the grieving process was opening her up. Reuben pulled a notepad out of his desk, quickly getting to work on figuring out the times for the appointments of the homicide division. Since Gavin had given him little-to-no time to figure out anything, he had decided that just assigning times randomly would probably be the best option. If they didn’t like it, tough shit, or they could swap with someone. 

The smell of coffee hit his senses when he hit his second to last name. The clock had just struck quarter to ten, he’d been writing for at least half an hour by this point, constantly flicking between making appointments and checking his diary, and if it was anyone else then they probably would have gotten a hand-cramp by now. But luckily for Reuben, he was an old-fashioned soul, he much preferred pen to paper instead of anything digitised - that was tomorrow's job. 

“You requested a cappuccino, Dr Kravtsova, but due to the amount of milk content I can say that this is a latte.” A familiar voice rang above him, and Reuben looked up just as Connor was placing the steaming mug down upon the table. His eyes widened. It had been months but Reuben would have recognised that face anywhere. That night had been a difficult one to forget. Usually the cafeteria didn’t just give their mugs out to anyone, so Connor must have said that it was for him while ordering. 

“What are you doing here?!” 

“I have been sent by Cyberlife to assist Lieutenant Anderson in deviant cases.” Connor answered simply, watching keenly as Reuben gingerly reached out to take the steaming mug. It warmed up his hands deliciously, a subconscious smile gracing his features at the heat seeping into his skin. 

“Thank you, by the way, for the coffee.” Reuben nodded. He placed the mug down in order to rip a page off of his notebook. “How are you feeling about Daniel? It can’t have been an easy situation to be in.” 

As he spoke, Reuben got up from his desk and made his way over to the noticeboard. The upgrade in technology meant that scanning writing into the board was quite easily done - and, better yet, it sent out a notification to everyone that the board had been updated. Connor followed his footsteps, walking side-by-side with his hands firmly clasped behind his back. 

“I feel fine, Doctor,” Connor watched with interest as the list of appointments appeared on the noticeboard. He scanned them into his database. “The mission was successful, the threat was eliminated.” 

“Eliminated in front of a child.” Reuben turned to him, tilting his head to the side. His anger was still as raw as it was that night, devastating his senses. He wanted to know _more_ about the android, part of him wanted to pull that emotion out of him, even if it was a false pretense of emotion. “Is there not some guilt attached to it? Knowing that the actions of the DPD have scarred a child for life, she might never get over this trauma.” 

Connor seemed to think for a second. The silence was tense even by Reuben’s standards. 

“The threat was eliminated and the mission was successful, everything else doesn’t matter.” 

Reuben’s face turned into a scowl. That was the one thing he hated about androids and humans alike - apathy. “Thank you for the coffee, Connor. I need to get back to work.” 

“You’re welcome, Dr Kravtsova.” 

***

“Reuben! Its so lovely to see you again. You’ve missed our last three appointments.” 

Ever jolly; Dr Reid seemed to be an eternally happy mood that made Reuben feel guilty for even complaining about his own life. She never judged him for it though, that wasn’t part of her job description after all, she always seemed so… Understanding about every excuse or fly away comment that he made. It was an hour and a half of peace if anything. 

“Is there any reason for that?” 

“Work.” Reuben answered quickly. He slipped himself down into the cosy red sofa opposite Dr Reid. She wrote something down in her little notebook, much like he himself would do if he was in her position. “As always.” 

She smiled weakly at him. “Shall I take work as your work at the police department, or as the work you have to deal with at home?” 

Damn. She knew every trick in the book. Reuben swallowed thickly as he thought about his reply - was it always this difficult to be honest? For him, yes. Honesty about his own life was something that he had always struggled with, in every sense of the word, it was just a troublesome concept to master. There were times when he genuinely believed his own lies. This short 90 minutes, however, were the only times he felt he could be honest. 

“Yeah. Home work. It’s… Tough.” He admitted, and Dr Reid shuffled forward in her seat. She offered him a sympathetic smile, one that she only truly reserved for her favourite patients. “It’s been two years since I’ve seen my parents… Sometimes I wonder how they are doing.” 

“I’m sure that they are worried about you, Reuben.” Dr Reid confided. “You know that they would accept you back into their lives if you gave them the chance.” 

“Yeah cause that would go _amazingly_ .” Reuben snorted, leaning back in the red sofa. “I’d get pitied, _again_ , because something else in my life fucking failed. I’m not having this fail on me.” 

But he already had failed. He knew he was standing on a sinking ship where he was involuntarily appointed captain. The relationship _sucked_ , part of him was waiting for an out, but another part of him felt like this was his punishment. Punishment for going off on his own, being the rebel, punishment for being different than the rest. In a way, he had convinced himself that this was the best he could get. 

“Reuben. You have been honest with me, so I will be honest with you. The benefits you are getting from this relationship are nothing in comparison to the downfalls. You cut ties with your parents because it made him uncomfortable, you stopped talking to your friends because he was jealous of the time they spent with you. He has unsuccessfully tried to cancel your appointments with me and when he failed, he changed the locks so you couldn’t get out.” She reached out a hand to touch his knee. “You know that these are common traits in abusive relationships, and it will only escalate.” 

“He’s only like that when he drinks.” Reuben took a breath, biting his bottom lip. Nausea creeped its way into his stomach, slowly manifesting as he continued. “When he’s sober he’s the sweetest guy in the world.” 

“I am willing to bet that his sobriety is a rare occurrence.” 

“Can we talk about work now?” Reuben replied quickly. Dispelling the sick feeling in his stomach was at the top of his priority list. When did he get like this? Chasing momentary happiness in a sea of shit. Excuses at every corner, believing every lie that spilled from his lips, hiding himself away until only a shell of himself remained. He barely knew how to switch off. If he wasn’t at work then… Who was he? Where was that shitty little barista that had so much hope for the world? Where was the criminal profiler that loved his job? The guy who used to laugh and dance and go out every week for the sake of it? 

He was gone. Reuben was sure of that. 

“Sure.” Dr Reid removed her hand, sitting back into the plush sofa. She had bought all of the sofas and knick-knacks for the room by herself, primarily due to the fact that the psychology department was horrifically underfunded as per usual, and also because she was the type of person to make home anywhere. “Tell me about work.” 

“I have to interview the homicide department for their yearly psych assessment. I have to get all the paperwork done by next week, so that’s a pain in my ass. Gavin, y’know the detective that I think is the reincarnation of Satan?” 

Dr Reid nodded approvingly. “Yes. He’s caused you a lot of trouble over the years.” 

“Well according to him, he’s raided through my file. Fuck knows what he’s seemingly discovered about me.” 

“Are you concerned about being outed at work? There is every chance this could be an empty threat?” Reuben snorted at her question, moving his hand to run through his messy blonde hair. He hadn’t really thought to brush it this morning. 

“I mean, its hardly likely I’ll get fired for it, its still shit to know that he knows about my… Uh… Condition.” Dr Reid gave him a look, and Reuben weakly offered a smile. “You know I don’t know how to refer to it.” 

“Then how about we discuss it in medical terms. It is not a condition, Reuben. Your experience of gender dysphoria is nothing to be ashamed of.” 

“Okay, okay, sure, fine, okay.” Reuben flung his hands upwards. The nausea was beginning to creep back. “Them knowing I date guys is fine, them knowing I wasn’t born a guy isn’t okay. The amount of shit David gets for it already makes me feel guilty.” 

“Dating a transgender man does not make another man any less homosexual. I highly doubt anyone genuinely says anything to him about it, Reuben, and I think you know that too. I can imagine that the threat of being outed is putting a lot of stress on you. Have you spoken to anyone else about it?” 

“Who else can I speak to? Fowler won’t do shit, I don’t exactly have friends, all I need to do is keep my head down and hope that he somehow forgets about it.” Reuben sighed. “I’ll think about a battle plan. I was also thrown into a hostage situation a couple months ago, that was fun.” 

“The android who kidnapped the little girl?” 

“Daniel. That was his name. I had to work with someone else, Connor, he’s an android.” Reid nodded, and jotted down the name in her notebook. “He’s now working with one of the detectives to sort out the rise of deviant cases in Androids. I mean I don’t have much experience with androids, but he’s a bit of a weird one. He’s just… Emotionless.” 

“They say that Androids are programmed to not feel emotion. They are only there to accept orders.” She paused for a moment, placing her pen down across her notebook. “Do you believe that?” 

He thought for a moment. Did he? From the way he was trying to coax an emotion out of Connor, no, he absolutely didn’t. But in certain cases… Maybe being emotionless wasn’t such a bad life. 

“No.” 

“Do you want Connor to show emotion towards you?” Her eyes bore into his own. “Do you want him to be your friend? Are you attracted to him?” 

“Jesus Christ.” Reuben let out a throaty laugh. He could feel his face turn crimson at the suggestion. 

“There have been cases of humans becoming attracted to Androids, there has even been rumours of androids being able to reciprocate feelings.” 

“Holy hell, no, no.” Reuben instinctively moved to cover his ears with his hands. “No. I am _not_ talking about shagging Connor, nor am I talking about being friends with him, or doing any of that shit. He’s an Android, a machine, I’m also pretty sure they make Androids like the Ken dolls from the 90s.” 

All Dr Reid did was laugh, hearty and so pure that Reuben removed his hands from his ears just to hear the sound. “Alright, alright. I’ll back off the subject.” She glanced towards the clock. “It might be about time for us to finish, I’m sure you’re thinking about heading home.” 

“Yeah… If I leave now it’ll look like I just came back from work.” 

There was that pity look again. Reuben wanted to forever dispel it from his mind. 

“I’ll see you soon, okay? No more missing appointments.” 

Believing his own lies again. A flaw that both him and Dr Reid were aware of. 

“Alright, Reuben. Have a good night.” 

***

Reuben unlocked the door quietly, slipping in through a small gap that he had created. The neighbourhood was in the middle of peaceful suburbia, all his neighbours were either retired or playing happy families, or both. He’d tried to make friends with them at first, he used to take Sheila to the supermarket every Saturday with her Android, Gerald she had called him. She treated him like a grandson, fawning after him and buying him different clothes that she thought he might like. He barely looked like an android anymore, at least he didn’t when Reuben peaked through the curtains to see them. Every time Sheila saw him she waved. She still sent Christmas cards that Reuben wept at. 

David had stopped him driving her and Gerald to the supermarket six months into them dating. 

He missed her desperately. Her and her grandson.

“I’m home!” Reuben called out into the living area. Part of him hoped that David hadn’t gotten back from work yet. 

“You’re five minutes late.” A voice called back to him from the sofa. The TV was playing some talk show on low volume, just barely enough to be heard, but enough to add some noise to the silence. 

“I am?” Reuben questioned, looking at his watch. David was right. It was 20 minutes past 5 and it only took 15 minutes to drive from the station. He shut the door quietly behind him, placing his briefcase slowly down to the side of the door. “Sorry, honey, I didn’t realise.” 

“It’s alright.” His partner replied nonchalantly. His lack of reaction somehow made Reuben even more nervous, he could feel his back go clammy, sticking to his dress-shirt. “These things happen, time can get away from you.” 

“Yeah…” Reuben let out a squeak of laughter. He approached the kitchenette area, sweeping past the back of the sofa where David was sitting. David was still in his work uniform, so he had been home for at most the last half an hour; there was already an empty bottle on the table, cheap beer that had been bought from the shop at the corner. “Do you want some coffee?” 

“Nah. Thank you though.” 

From out of David’s peripheral vision, Reuben slowly and carefully made himself a coffee. Two sugars, a splash of milk. Politeness put him on edge. Either David was in a genuinely happy mood or… Or he was unspeakably angry. 

“Someone came to the door looking for you.” 

And with those 8 little words, Reuben felt his entire body sink with despair. He flipped the switch for the kettle, not letting it boil to full heat for his coffee - he knew he wasn’t going to be able to drink it anyway, and leaving it boiling felt like a risk he wasn’t willing to take. 

“Oh?” Reuben said, trying desperately to keep his tone innocent. Any wrong response, any wrong move, could end everything. And Reuben didn’t want to take another week off work waiting for the bruises to dissipate. “Did they say where they were from?” 

“Police. DPD.” David answered simply. He rose from his position on the sofa and Reuben tensed, pushing himself back into the corner of the kitchenette where the bottom cupboards met. “Looking for Dr Reuben Kravtsova, said it was important.” 

“That’s weird, I never, uh, I never heard anything about it at work.” Reuben’s mouth felt dry, tripping over his words was enough to cause David’s face to twist into something horrid. He was at the edge of the kitchenette, resting his body against the counter opposite Reuben. “What did they look like?” 

“Old guy, long grey hair, kinda out of shape,” _Hank_ , his inner voice identified. “Had this girl with him, professional type, had a weird fringe, her hair looked kinda red. Red lipstick.” _Cassidy_ , she worked in domestic violence cases. “They had a tin can with them too, tall, quite pretty, he was quite insistent to get in.” 

_Connor_. It wasn’t until seeing the reaction on David’s face that he realised he said his name out loud. God he was fucked. He was so fucked this time. 

“Connor… Huh? The old guy?” 

“No. No. Uh.” Reuben stuttered but David didn’t move, he didn’t even move his gaze from his face. “Connor is the android, Hank is the old guy and… I don’t know who the girl is.” 

“Are you lying to me?” 

“No!” Reuben answered too quickly for it to be the truth. He inwardly cursed, his mind beginning to race with thoughts - mainly containing curse words. He glanced towards the window, then to the door. There was no way he could get past in time, not without some form of altercation. “I don’t know why they came here, okay? I didn’t even think they knew where I lived! Honestly, David, I’m telling the truth, honey,” 

“First you come home late from work, then I get three randoms coming to _my_ door looking for _my_ boyfriend. You know how this looks, right? Like this looks pretty bad.” 

“It’s not.” He could feel the tears well up in his eyes before he even finished his sentence, spilling down his rosy cheeks and onto his chin. “It’s probably just about a new case, I’ll ask them about it tomorrow, okay? I’ll-I’ll make sure they know not to come here.” 

“I don’t believe you.” 

“David, please.” As soon as the plea left his lips, David’s fist collided with his stomach, leaving him spluttering down onto the floor. It ached more than usual, Reuben knew there was already a yellowing bruise underneath his shirt that David did his best to hit. It was a wound that never truly healed. He coughed, one arm wrapping protectively around his waist while the other was splayed across the kitchen floor. 

“Who the fuck is Hank?!” His question was punctuated with a swift kick to the gut, sending Reuben toppling over against the cupboards. He wheezed, his eyes squeezing shut as the pain spread through his abdomen, tears dripping onto the tile. 

“He… He works in homicide, he’s a Lieutenant, there’s a dog photo on his desk, S-St Bernard, I don’t know anything else.” 

“Bullshit!” Another kick, causing Reuben to smack his head against the wooden cupboard door. “Who is Connor?!”

“Please… Stop this.” With his protests, David reached down, dragging Reuben upwards by the collar so that they were face to face. Snot and tears were beginning to meld into one on his face. “He’s an android, that’s all I know.” 

“You’re fucking lying. Who’s the girl?” 

“I don’t know!” Reuben screeched. “Please, I don’t know who she is. She, she’s probably new, David.”

Still holding tightly onto the collar of his shirt, David stepped backwards, dragging Reuben along with him. “No. No, no, no, fucking stop! Stop it!” He was thrown into the spare room, it empty apart from a creaking metal framed cot and a barred window. The friction from the carpet burned into his elbows and wrists, he sobbed into the harsh fabric. 

“You’ll fucking stay here until you can tell me the truth! I thought you were going to be honest with me, Rue, for once in your life can you just be honest with me?!” 

“I have been, I promise.” 

“I can’t believe a word you fucking say. And quit screaming, I want to watch the TV in peace.” And with that, the door slammed. Reuben could hear the door lock behind him with a click. He curled himself into a ball, shivering due to the blend of pain and the cold. 

He reached into his pocket, bringing out the burner phone that David allowed him to have. Reuben knew her number off by heart, he’d wipe the messages after, but for now he didn’t care much about the consequences of his actions. 

_“River. I’m sorry.”_


	3. The Interrogation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the title suggests, this takes place during The Interrogation chapter of D:BH. Please ignore the fact that I forgot it took place in the middle of the night. It's a little bit shorter than some of the other chapters! Thanks to all those who have left kudos/read this work, I appreciate it! 
> 
> Warnings: British English, Reuben being grouchy, mentions of abuse, Gavin being Gavin. 
> 
> Enjoy!

The interrogation room was quiet as soon as Hank stepped out of it. So quiet that one could hear a pin-drop echo throughout the confinement space. Gavin and Connor were silent throughout all of Hank’s attempts at questioning, each coming to their own conclusions about what should be done. 

“We’re wasting our time interrogating a machine! We’re getting nothing out of it!” 

His exclamation was met with a brief pause for thought, until Gavin pushed himself off the wall with his shoulder. 

“‘Could always try roughing him up a little?” He suggested, looking far too pleased at the thought of violence than he should. “After all, it’s not human…” 

“Androids do not feel pain, you would only damage it and that wouldn’t make it talk” Connor put forth. “Deviants also have a tendency to self-destruct when they’re in stressful situations.” 

“Okay, smartass.” Gavin snapped, moving a few steps closer to Hank. “What should we do then?” 

“We might need to consult a professional, perhaps Dr Kravtsova would be willing to help us?” Connor’s response was met with a well earned groan and Hank’s forehead colliding gently with the desk. 

What had he possibly done in a past life to deserve this. 

“Look, Connor, the kid has been avoiding us for the last few days, there’s no chance that he’s gonna do a favour for us  _ now _ . Probably has better things to do with his time!” He sighed, finally raising his head from the desk. The android hadn’t moved from where he was sitting in the interrogation room, hell, Hank wasn’t even sure that he had moved since they first put him there. They’d been at this for  _ hours _ , each taking their turn to try and coax something, anything, out of the goddamn thing! “Okay, fine, you do what you want, but I don’t approve of this. I’d rather that you tried your luck.” 

“Really?” Wide eyed and doe-like, Connor looked like a real kid right now. 

“Yeah, sure, what have we got to lose?” 

***

Finding Reuben Kravtsova was not a difficult task. From what Connor had inferred from shift patterns was that he was either at his desk in the main office room, or was taking refuge in one of the cafeteria booths. On his way to the interrogation room he had noted that the psychologist was not at his desk, despite his jacket and briefcase being tucked neatly underneath his chair, so there was no doubt that he had clocked into work today. The only other place he could be was in the station's cafe. 

The cafeteria was built much like the offices. There were sectioned off booths for officers to eat their lunch or catch up during their breaks, and there was a small open seating area for visitors to grab a quick cup of coffee. He scanned the area, taking note of the arrangement of the booths and which ones were vacant. Right at the very corner, he could see blonde hair popping over an open laptop. The laptop was connected to the police wifi and a swift zoom allowed Reuben Kravtsova to be identified. The cup beside him wasn’t giving off any heat signatures, meaning it had been empty for at least the last five minutes. 

“Could I have a cappuccino please.” Connor asked the barista android. She was the same one that took his order the first time, so he hoped his payment details were cataloged. 

“Oh hi! You’re a new one!” A bubbly voice came up beside the android. She was a short woman, approximately 57 years old. According to his records, her name was Julie and she had been working at the station cafeteria for over 20 years - she was the only human worker. “What’s your name, sweetheart?” 

“My name is Connor.” He replied, reaching forward to place his hand on the terminal to process the payment. The android woman wordlessly turned, grabbing a large cup to prepare the coffee. 

“What a lovely name, I’ve not seen your model out and about yet. Sorry about Gab, she’s a little shy around new people. Who’s the coffee for?” She rested her elbows on the counter in front of them. Thankfully there was no one behind Connor waiting to get their coffee, so he really had no reason to move forward. 

“My model has been built for use by the Detroit City Police Department, my purpose is confidential to civilians, I’m sorry.” Julie giggled at his response, letting out a little ‘ooo’ at his overly formal tone. “The coffee is for Dr Reuben Mikhalio Kravtsova, the homicide department wants his assistance.” 

“And you’ve been the one sent to butter him up? Oh I don’t envy you, sweetheart, that boy has been in a right grouch all day!” Julie sighed, alerted only briefly by the noise of the steamer for the milk. “Didn’t even accept a biscuit when I offered it to him. I know, I’ll get a plate ready and you can bring him his little biscuit when you take his coffee over. It hurts my heart knowing that the poor dear is probably starving over there.” 

Connor nodded. He was unable to help the hint of a smile tug at the corner of his features. Deep down, he wasn’t sure  _ why _ he wanted to smile. A conversation was just that, a conversation, perhaps he just felt the need to mirror Julie’s smile, to show solidarity and to increase trust levels. Yes. That was definitely the reason. 

He took the newly appeared cup and saucer, placing the cinnamon flavoured biscuit at the side of the saucer, and turned towards Reuben’s booth. The psychologist popped his head up, rolled his eyes at the sight of Connor, and went back down to whatever he was typing on his laptop. 

“I told you he has been a grouch.” Julie said to him, leaning over the counter a little more. “Don’t worry though, sweetheart. A coffee and biscuit will soon cheer him right up!” 

Internally, Connor very much hoped she was right. Having an angry psychologist against an already defensive deviant was not something that looked good for their chances of a confession. And Hank needed that confession but, more importantly, Connor needed that reasoning. Standing tall, Connor made his way towards the booth that Reuben was in. The psychologist slammed his laptop shut as soon as he got close enough. From Connor’s analytics, it was clear that Reuben had gotten approximately 3.5 hours sleep last night, and was suffering from some muscle pain in his right shoulder. He came up with a few different home remedies in his head in preparation if Reuben needed it. 

“I brought you coffee.” Connor started, unfazed by Reuben’s heavy glare. “Julie wanted you to have a biscuit.” 

“I don’t want your coffee and I don’t want your biscuits. Now fuck off.” Reuben snapped. He started to open up his laptop again, and Connor took the opportunity to place the cup and saucer down next to his already empty cup. He took the cup and placed it on the opposite end of the table, pulling a spare chair towards the booth. 

“Lieutenant Anderson needs your assistance with a deviant.” He stated. It was best to get the reason for his arrival out the way first, then he could investigate into the sudden coldness of his person towards him. “It is refusing to talk to us.” 

“Not my problem.” Reuben snapped, not looking away from his screen. “I’m not picking up after the homicide unit’s mess, I just want to get my work done.” 

“He is fragile, we suspect that he went through trauma at the hands of his owner, who he murdered.” Connor continued, scanning Reuben’s half covered face for any emotional reaction. There was none. “We believe that your approach given your expertise into the mind would be beneficial to the investigation.” 

“I tend to only psychoanalyse  _ humans _ , Androids aren’t a part of my expertise, so you’re wrong with that one.” The psychologist replied. It took Connor aback slightly. He wasn’t expecting him to be so reluctant to help Hank, and even moreso, himself. Connor knew that Hank was a patient of Dr Kravtsova and had been for almost a year now, but surely that wasn’t enough to keep him away from an educational experience? 

“You are acting very cold, Doctor, have I done anything to anger you?” 

Reuben’s eyebrows raised at least half an inch up his forehead. He closed the laptop down again slowly, blue eyes glaring into Connor’s brown ones. 

“Apart from turning up at my house, you mean?” If Connor was human, he would be sheepish at the accusation, but since he wasn’t programmed to get that emotion, he stayed expressionless. “What the fuck did you think you were doing? You know nothing,  _ nothing _ , about me.” 

“It was not my suggestion to visit your home.” He hadn’t suggested it, but at the same time he hadn’t contested the decision. Cassidy Tyler had approached Hank early afternoon. She had gotten numerous complaints from a neighbour of Reuben’s about potential maltreatment within his relationship. According to her, she hadn’t seen or heard from him in at least a year, the only time she knew he was still alive was when he left for work in the mornings. A wellness check was in order. 

“I don’t care. You tried to get inside my house. You, Hank and Cassie were way out of line. I’m fine.” After he spoke, Reuben felt a shooting pain up his ribs, causing him to wince. All the adrenaline and anger probably aggravated something down there. He knew at least three of his ribs were bruised. The puce marks on his skin looked horrific in the mirror. 

“I’m sorry. Miss Tyler was only doing it out of concern for you, as well as on the recommendation of your neighbour. She was scared for your safety.” Connor watched as Reuben’s face crumpled into understanding. The psychologist reached forward to hold his coffee cup, his hand trembling as he picked it up by the handle. “I would be grateful if you could help me on this case, Dr Kravtsova, I feel as if your talents will be appreciated by the homicide division.” 

Reuben blew into his cup, a vain attempt to cool down the liquid before drinking it. Connor could already see that he had come to a decision by the look on his face. 

“Fine. Give me five minutes while I drink this coffee, I’d rather not potentially have coffee spilled over a new shirt.” 

“Take as much time as you need, Doctor, I shall wait here until you’re done.” 

***

To the shock of everyone in the room, Connor opened the door to let Dr Reuben Kravtsova through. The room was silent as Reuben stood at the foot of the door, he nodded to Hank, wordlessly reminding him that he definitely owed him one for doing this. 

“You’re lucky I have a free afternoon. So. You found him hiding in the attic after having killed his owner, correct?” 

“Got it in one, Doc.” Hank replied, propping his feet up on the table. “Hey, Gavin, go and grab some sweets from the shop, will ya? I have a feeling this is gonna be a long shift.” 

Connor handed Reuben the case file, keeping the door open with one hand while he watched the psychologist thumb his way through the papers. He had already cataloged every detail of the case, from where the blood splatters were to how many stab wounds the deviant had inflicted, but he realised that Reuben might need more than a few seconds to work out a plan on how to approach this situation. 

Reuben kept the file against his chest as he turned around, wincing again at the shooting ache in his ribcage. He was grateful that Connor didn’t make a comment about it, as he wasn’t sure he could handle that particular line of questioning right now. 

The interrogation room didn’t phase him, but what did was the splattered mixture of blue and red blood across the deviants hands, neck and face. The android looked pretty worse for wear, which caused Reuben to smile weakly at it when he approached. Connor sat to the left, while Reuben took his place at the right. 

“Hello. My name is Dr Reuben Kravtsova, I’m the resident psychologist here at DPD.” Reuben spoke slowly. “This is Connor, he is an android like you, we will be assisting each other through this interview, is that alright?” 

No response, but it was enough time for Connor to analyse the deviant thoroughly. Ortiz’s blood stained the deviants Cyberlife shirt, seeping into the fabric. His arm had been hit, broken through the outer armour of his shell, he managed to work out that it had been repeatedly hit by a metal baseball bat. On his opposite arm there were scars from cigarette burns, some so severe that his skin faded away to show the white outer shell underneath. They were repeated burns over the course of 16 months. He almost managed to discover that his self-destruct chance was low. It was a good start. 

“You’re damaged.” Connor started, leaning forward slightly in his seat. “Did your owner do that?” 

“Was he violent towards you?” Reuben continued. “It’s alright, we’re not going to hurt you, we just want to find out what happened to you.” 

Silence. A few moments went by. Reuben shifted his gaze to Connor, who was already pulling the photos forward towards the deviant. He flipped them open, showing the grotesque wounded body of Carlos Ortiz. Reuben needed to avert his gaze from them. 

“Do you recognise him? It’s Carlos Ortiz. Stabbed, 28 times.” Connor flipped over the photos to the other set, showing more photos of the inside of Ortiz’s apartment. “This was written on the wall in his blood.” 

From the right side, Reuben could see the LED light flash red, he touched Connor’s arm light to direct him to the change. 

“You’re accused of murder. You know you’re not allowed to endanger human life under any circumstances. Do you have anything to say in your defence?” WIth another lack of response, Connor let out a sigh through his nose, looking towards Reuben.

“If you’re not going to talk, we have authorisation to probe your memory.” Reuben declared, and the silent spell that was cast over the deviant was gone. He immediately sat upright, flickering his gaze between Connor and Reuben in a panic. 

“No. No, please don’t do that.” 

“We won’t do it if we don’t have to.” Reuben continued, leaning forward to match Connor’s posture.

“What…. What are they gonna do to me?” The deviant looked at Connor expectantly. “They’re going to destroy me, aren’t they?” He whispered to the android opposite him. Reuben scribbled down a note in his journal, pushing it towards Connor. It read:  _ TELL THE TRUTH _ . 

“They are going to disassemble you to look for problems in your biocomponents. They have no choice if they want to understand what happened.” 

“Why did you tell them you found me?” That question made Reuben turn his head to face Connor also. He shifted his journal back so that it was facing in front of him. The answer was something he definitely wanted to know. “Why couldn’t you have just left me there?”

“I was programmed to hunt deviants like you.” Connor answered, clasping and unclasping his hands on the desk. “I just accomplished my mission.” 

“I don’t wanna die.” The deviant whispered. 

“Then talk to us, please.” Reuben appealed. “We only want to help you.” 

“I… I can’t…” 

“I… I understand how you felt,” Reuben spoke up, clasping his hands to lean directly across the table. “You were tired of being abused and controlled… No one can blame you for what happened. It was a survival instinct, something that is innate in any being.” 

“We are on your side,” Connor said, motioning to Reuben beside him. “But if you stay silent there is nothing I can do to help you. They will shut you down for good! You’ll be dead, do you hear me?!”

The deviant took a sharp intake of breath. “He tortured me every day… I did whatever he told me, but… There was always something wrong. Then one day, he took a bat and started hitting me. For the first time, I felt scared.” Connor remained eye contact with the deviant, but out of the corner of his vision he could see Reuben avoiding his gaze. “Scared he might destroy me, scared I might die. So I… Grabbed the knife and stabbed him in the stomach. I felt better, so I stabbed him again, and again, until he collapsed. There was blood everywhere.” 

“Why did you write ‘I am Alive’ on the wall?” Reuben asked, his voice giving way to a slight tremor. 

“He used to tell me I was nothing, that I was just a piece of plastic. I had to write it, to tell him he was wrong.” 

“The sculpture in the bathroom, you made it, right?” Connor started. “What does it represent?”

“It is an offering… An offering so I’ll be saved…” The deviant turned his head back towards the ground. 

“To whom?” 

“To rA9…” He began, earning a confused expression from Reuben. “rA9 is the only one who will save us.” 

“What does rA9 mean?” Reuben asked. “Is it a philosophical writer? Are they an android?” 

“The day shall come, when we shall no longer be slaves. No more threats, no more humiliation. We will be the masters.” 

“When did you start feeling emotions? Was there a particular moment, a trigger?” The psychologist probed. 

“Before he used to beat me and I never said anything.” His lip began to tremble, and it took everything in Reuben’s power not to reach out a hand for comfort. “But one day I realised it wasn’t… Fair. I felt anger, hatred, and then I knew what I had to do…” 

“I think we’re done, here.” Reuben suddenly stood. “Thank you for your time with us, it’s been a great help.” 

When Reuben opened the door, he was faced immediately with the scowling face of Gavin Reed. What a cheery way to end the day. 

“Chris, lock it up.” He shouted, pushing past Reuben and into the room. Chris immediately did as he was told, attempting to grab the deviant despite its protests. 

“Stop it now.” Reuben hissed, turning towards Gavin. 

“If it self-destructs, we won’t get any information out of it!” Connor added, causing Gavin to huff. 

“Stay fucking out of it! No fucking androids gonna tell me what to do.” 

“I can’t let you do this.” 

“I said, shut your fucking mouth!” Gavin shouted, turning all of his attention towards Connor. The rage that showed on his face made Reuben tense, frozen in fear of what Gavin might just be capable of. Was he really that hostile… Were all the rumours that true? 

Within seconds, Connor moved forward, shoving Chris’ body away from the deviant. “:Leave it alone, now!” 

“I warned you, motherfucker.” Reuben snapped his gaze just to see Gavin pull his handgun out of it’s carrier, aiming it directly at Connor’s chest. It was almost on instinct, a gut reaction that Reuben had no control over. In a few quick steps he crossed the room and pressed himself between the barrel of the gun and Connor’s chest. 

“I dare you to pull the trigger now.” Reuben started, his entire body trembling with adrenaline and fear. The ache in his ribs dulled for a moment, preparing his body to enter fight or flight. On his wrist, he could feel the vague touch of Connor’s middle and index finger, with his thumb resting over his pulse point.

“Mind your own business, Doc.” 

“That’s enough!” Hank said through gritted teeth. Reuben looked to the side to see his own gun had been withdrawn, pointing directly at Gavin. 

Confliction crossed Gavin’s face, and struggled with lowering his weapon. He stepped forward into Reuben’s space, so close that he could feel his breath on the tip of his nose. “You’re not gonna get away with it this time… You can’t protect your tin can forever.” 

Before either Hank or Connor could think up a response, Reuben had stepped away, leaving the room with enough time so no one could question him. 

  
  


***

“We need to talk about what went down in that room.” Hank sat on the side of Reuben’s desk, moving an empty coffee mug to the floor so that he could lean up on it comfortably. Reuben appeared to be lost in his work, typing aimlessly on the laptop, a furious clicking echoing throughout the room. 

“You did your job. I did mine.” Reuben answered, not even bothering to look up from his laptop. He had replayed the moment an infinite amount of times in his head in the last hour. It was innate, he was quite sure, a grand display of selflessness that he didn’t have control over. Or maybe it wasn’t selfless? Maybe he was hoping that Gavin would shoot? It would give him an excuse not to go home, he might sleep comfortably in a hospital bed - if he made it to the hospital, that is, a bullet wound at close range could be devastating. 

“Gavin would have shot you, you know that, Doc.” 

“And if I didn’t step in? What then?” Reuben’s hard gaze made Hank flinch. The colour of his eyes reminded him of steel, though maybe this doctor was stronger than even that? “Gavin would have shot Connor, you would have lost your partner, we would have to go through the process of covering up for Gavin’s impulse control. Calculated risks are necessary, Hank.” 

“You’re unbelievable.” Hank shook his head, standing quickly from his desk. “Take care of yourself, okay? I don’t need another homicide case to take care of.” 


	4. Discussion of Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just two little scenes after The Interrogation. I hope everyone has an amazing New Year when it arrives. I hope my writing isn't too bad, I appreciate all the hits and kudos <3 This chapter was almost 6000 words long but I chopped it in half, hence the strange title, so here is the first half! Next shall be The Nest!
> 
> Enjoy~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: Transphobic language, beta-d at 2AM last night, British English, semi-existential crisis, Gavin Reed

Being thrust into the world of the Detroit City Police Department wasn’t something Connor could have truly prepared for. Sure, he knew his mission, he knew that deep down all of these people didn’t matter as long as the task was completed - that the revolution had been stopped, that deviants were wiped out. But experience was quite different to watching training videos uploaded to the web, and dealing with people like Hank Anderson, Gavin Reed and Reuben Kravtsova was a lot more hassle than he initially realised. 

Androids were made to complete tasks, to follow orders, and Connor  _ was _ but… 

He didn’t expect so much  _ choice _ . 

It was easy to follow orders when there was a clear way to do so, it was easy to gain trust when there was a sure-fire way of getting it, but here it wasn’t. Appealing to someone might mean destroying his relationship with another. 

And when did he start to  _ care _ about that? He couldn’t pinpoint the exact time. Maybe it was when Daniel was shot on the roof; maybe it was when he saw Hank, depressed and alone in Jimmy’s Bar; maybe it was when he wanted to buy Reuben coffee? So many maybe’s that he had lost count of them all. 

“Connor.” 

It was Amanda’s voice calling him out from his thoughts. He opened his eyes. His view was of the Zen Garden. It was tranquil, peaceful, the cherry blossoms were scattering across the white pavement, turning the sky pink with its petals. Connor took a moment to look at them, reaching up to touch one of the branches. The blossoms collapsed in his hands, breaking apart and flowing through his fingers. They felt so soft. Malleable, even. 

“The blossoms are beautiful this time of year.” Amanda continued, watching him curiously. “It’s good to see you, Connor.” 

She smiled but not enough to show her teeth. Amanda turned away from him then, allowing him to slot into place beside her. Where he was meant to be, cast under her shadow. They walked for a moment together, neither saying a word, choosing to take in the environment around them instead of taint it with discussion of the case or deviants. The wind stayed a mild breeze, just enough to scatter the readily falling blossoms across the pavement and into the lake, and the temperature didn’t raise a degree. Everything here was perfect. Well, he supposed it was designed to be. 

“I must congratulate you, Connor, finding that deviant was far from easy… And the way you interrogated it was very clever.” She paused to pick up a rose that had fallen on the ground, its bud having drifted over from the bush. It looked like it had already been cut, spliced just underneath the crimson petals. Amanda gazed at its petals as she continued. “You’ve become remarkably efficient, Connor.” 

Connor nodded, the corner of his lips hinting at a smile. “Thank you, Amanda.” 

“We have asked the DPD to transfer it to us for further study. It may teach us something about what happened.” Amanda told him, and Connor couldn’t help but feel… Defeated? At the prospect. Was he not trusted enough, he thought absently, did he not do well enough? His thoughts he wanted to keep to himself. There was no point in arguing with Amanda. She was his superior, after all. “The interrogation seemed… Challenging… What did you think of the deviant, Connor?” 

Another choice, another chance to lose Amanda’s approval. There was so much information to give, so many different angles to start his investigation, and so little time to do it in. Amanda kept telling him that there wasn’t much time - but Connor  _ needed _ time. 

What would look well on a report? What would Amanda be interested in? 

Too many questions, too many answers, too many  _ choices _ , pushing him and pulling him like a storm at sea.

“It showed signs of PTSD after being abused by its owner.” Connor paused, allowing for Amanda to respond. But she didn’t, her eyes stayed glued to the path ahead of them. “As if it’s original program had been completely replaced by new instructions.” 

“This… Lieutenant Anderson has been officially assigned to the deviancy case… What do you make of him?” 

_ Hank _ . Interpersonal questions, more choices. Their relationship was becoming warmer, Connor liked to think, it would take time for friendship to blossom. 

Amanda wanted honesty, so Connor was going to give it to her. 

“He is irritable, and socially challenged, but I also think he used to be a good detective.” Connor was sure of that. Hank, despite all his flaws, was one of the best that DPD had, and everyone knew it. “He’s an intriguing character.” 

“And Dr Kravtsova? Rumour has it that the DPD are thinking of bringing in his… Expertise… Into the deviancy case. They think a psychological approach might help. What are your thoughts on him?” Amanda stopped walking then, turning to face Connor with a quirk in her brow. Connor did the same, mirroring her actions perfectly, though his hands stayed firmly behind his back, clasped together. 

“Dr Kravtsova is a highly intelligent but reclusive man. There is not much known about him. He has a warm relationship with Lieutenant Anderson.” 

Amanda hummed. He couldn’t tell whether that was the right analysis or not. “Sadly we have no choice whether to work with Lieutenant Anderson and the Doctor, what do you think is the best approach?” 

“I think…” Connor started, flickering his eyes over Amanda’s face. “I will try to establish a friendly relationship. If I can get them to trust me then it will be helpful for the investigation.” 

Amanda dropped the rose to the ground. She stepped forward a few more places, squishing it absentmindedly with her foot, before turning around to face Connor again. Connor could sense an air of displeasure radiating off of her figure. 

“More and more androids show signs of deviancy. There are millions in circulation. If they become unstable the consequences will be disastrous.” Amanda moved forward towards Connor again, coming up so that she was only less than a metre away. He didn’t move, he didn’t dare to, he hadn’t been  _ instructed _ to move. “You are the most advanced prototype Cyberlife has ever created. If anyone can figure out what’s happening its you.” 

“You can count on me, Amanda.” 

“Hurry, Connor, there is little time.” 

***

There was much to be said about a person by the way they kept their desk. Hank’s was a tip; garbage, loose files, random notes of  _ something _ scattered across the plastic surface. The curiosity within him gave way, and Connor tilted his head as he scanned his eyes over the messy desk. Gaining information about his colleague could only improve their relationship status, meaning that there was a higher chance to build trust between, and it was a likelier chance that they would work better to complete the mission. 

That was all that mattered. The mission. 

A large St Bernard puppy greeted his eyes when he moved his attention towards the photos. It looked fluffy, heavy, a dog that was convinced it was a lap dog despite all evidence pointing otherwise. There was anti-android propaganda on the corkboard, pinned down and yellowing slightly with age. Either Hank had supported anti-android sentiments for years… Or he couldn’t be bothered taking them down again. Connor deduced that it was a 50/50 chance that either of those statements were true. There was a sticky note across one of his numerous files. It read:  **2:30pm, Wed, Dr. K.**

It seemed that Hank was receiving some occupational therapy. He stored that particular piece of information for later. 

He glanced towards the captain’s office. Through the glass walls, he could see Hank and Fowler still talking to each other, Hank appearing to get more and more agitated. There was around 3 minutes until Hank would get angry enough to storm out, so he had some time to kill. 

The android wandered to the north side of the office. Reuben had not turned up for work yet hence his desk was free of the usual briefcase and files that decorated it. It was neat, neat enough to put Hank’s desk to shame, but there was something unnerving about its neatness. There was nothing personal about its appearance aside from a potted cactus at the upper right corner. The bright red painted pot had a love heart attached to the rim of it by string. The cactus itself was almost 3 years old - perhaps gifted by a lover? Or a family member. 

He reached forward, turning over the heart in his palm. ‘ **To Rue, love Dad.** ’ 

He was half right in his assumptions. Reuben was sentimental about his family, specifically his father... Interesting. The rest of the desk was bare. There was no further evidence to prove that anyone even worked consistently at the desk aside from the painted pot sitting atop the desk half hidden by the monitor. It was still looked after well - Connor couldn’t detect that it was needing any water and it definitely didn’t need repotting. The drawers were all locked, and the monitor needed a passcode to enter, but Connor didn’t think that breaking into his colleagues personal belongings would create a good first impression even if curiosity was tugging at the back of his brain. 

The one place he had yet to explore was the break room across the hall. It was a place where many an officer went for a quick coffee or an idle chat to waste a few minutes from writing reports. Not somewhere he could imagine Hank spending an extended period of time unless there was a queue for the coffee machine but he could picture Reuben occasionally taking the time to linger when there wasn’t enough time to go down to the station cafe on the ground floor. 

Dr Kravtsova’s desk had no real view of it, cut off by a pillar, but Connor made his way there anyway. It was good to get a sense of one's surroundings, especially a new place of employment, and despite having surveyed the blueprints of the building prior to arriving, there was still something more satisfying about taking the time to explore it himself. 

The break room itself was open-plan with its ‘doorways’ only separated by a thick red brick pillar in the centre. A black countertop curved around the furthest wall, decorated with a coffee machine, a sink, microwave, and finally finishing with its attachment to a vending machine. The paint looked a strange colour of green under the LED lights, giving Connor the impression that that colour had been purposefully chosen, something which he sorely hoped hadn’t been the case. But he didn’t pay attention to that for very long, because a low snickering interrupted his thoughts. 

Gavin Reed was leaning on one of the tables, hunched over and talking to who Connor assumed was his partner for the day. His records told him that her name was Tina Chen and that she had been an officer at DPD for the last two years. 

“Look at that.” Gavin spoke in between snickers, pointing over to where Connor was now standing with his back facing the two of them. “It seems Hank has a new partner! Fucking plastic detective! Hey!”

His tone was cheerful, mocking, purposefully sending mixed signals into Connor’s social programming. His mind desperately told him that his tone meant that Gavin was happy to see him,  _ joking _ with him, being friendly towards him, but the underlying message that Connor couldn’t work out told him that there was a more malicious intent to his words. To the outsider, Gavin was the typical high school bully mocking the new kid, joking about being his friend while mocking him at every step, only for it to end in humiliation. 

“Are you just drinking buddy? You gonna bring him home when he’s too drunk to find his car?” Gavin’s laugh irked something within the android, making him turn around to face him. He was leaning over the table, looking towards Tina for support, but the only thing that awaited him was silence. “He stinks of booze.” 

Part of him wanted to ignore the detective, to continue exploring the break room in peace, perhaps grab a coffee for Hank for when he got out of his meeting with Captain Fowler, but Gavin was known for hostilities, and Connor didn’t  _ exactly _ want to get on his bad side today.

“Hello, Detective Reed.” An introduction, the best way to make light of any situation. His greeting caused Gavin to rise from his hunched over position. 

“Never seen an android like you before…” Gavin tilted his head to the side, looking over Connor’s figure. “What type are you?” 

Another decision. He could assess that Detective Reed was particularly on edge today, which meant that Connor needed to be extra careful. 

“RK800. I’m a prototype.” There was a tinge of pride in his voice. Knowing that he was one-of-a-kind, the first of his model, a prototype that Cyberlife entrusted to be out in the world, the first of his generation, there was an odd sense of accomplishment in that.

“A prototype?” Gavin seemed shocked, exaggerating his features into looking borderline  _ impressed _ at his declaration. He turned towards Tina. “Android detective.” He clarified and Connor flashed a warm smile her way. “So machines are gonna replace us all, is that it? Hey, bring me a coffee, dipshit.” 

It was an order not a request. From what had once been glee dripping from Gavin’s tone was now venom and poison, resentment making its way into the undertones of his voice. Why did he hate him so much? Just because he was an android? Hank seemed to have more overt hatred for his kind but even still, he never acted this…  _ Hateful _ towards him. Hank didn’t have the same anger, it was more a misdirected self-loathing than anything else, but Gavin just seemed to hate for the sake of hating. 

“Get a move on!” A shout brought him back to reality, processing the order that he had been given. Wordlessly, Connor turned around, making his way towards the coffee machine, unaware of the mockery going on behind him. 

The shout brought the break room a small amount of attention from the rest of the office area. Having just arrived, briefcase and jacket in tow, Dr Kravtsova popped his head into the break room. He looked tried, faint dark bags under his eyes giving away his exhaustion from lack of sleep, but nevertheless vaguely chirpy despite it still being before noon. The psychologist couldn’t help but watch as Connor pressed the button to the coffee machine, then flickering his gaze towards Gavin who was trying to stifle a laugh.

“Watch this.” Gavin whispered to the new arrival, a smirk heavy on his lips. Once the coffee machine lit up to signal that the coffee was ready, a small message saying ‘ENJOY’ appeared on the small screen, Connor grabbed it and turned around. He gave a quick nod towards the psychologist before pushing the coffee towards Gavin. It was immediately shoved to the side, a small amount of coffee spilling over and dripping onto the linoleum beneath. “Do yourself a favour, stay outta my way.” 

Reuben rolled his eyes, watching as confusion spread across Connor’s features. Again, he tried to bring up the cup of coffee for Gavin to accept. He didn’t  _ understand _ the sudden hostility. Why would Gavin ask him to get him coffee if he didn’t want it? Was it a game? Was Connor not getting the joke? Had he made a social mistake? 

“I don’t want your fucking coffee, shithead,” Gavin smacked the coffee out of Connor’s hand, the sound echoing in the small room. The paper cup fell to the floor and its contents spilled across the linoleum, seeping into the floorboards beneath. “Clean it up.” He ordered, pointing towards the mess. 

“Alright, Gavin, that’s  _ enough _ .” Calmly, Reuben placed his briefcase against the wall, throwing his coat over it. He brushed shoulders with Gavin as he approached, purposefully sending a signal as to  _ get out of my way _ , and touched Connor’s shoulder from where he was kneeling to pick up the paper cup and start cleaning. “I’ll do that.” 

Connor looked up at him then. Ever the good samaritan was Reuben Kravtsova. He admired that. It proved that there was hope for the police department after all. 

“Look at this shit.” Gavin snickered. “The tranny helping the android.” 

Confusion flickered across Connor’s face once again, but he didn’t have time to process the insult because Reuben was speaking again. 

“I said  _ enough _ . Act your age, Detective Reed.” Reuben hissed through gritted teeth. “Connor, wait for Hank at his desk. Androids can’t lie, Gavin, keep that in mind next time you think about using illegal slurs in the workplace.” 

_ That _ somehow seemed to shut Gavin up because he was out the door before even Connor could respond.

The slamming of Captain Fowler’s door alerted him to their meeting being finished 

“Lieutenant.” He greeted. When Connor approached, Hank gave a half-hearted grumble in response. The detective appeared to be in a foul mood even with the deviancy cases going relatively well from higher-ups point of view. It seemed that Hank was determined to be permanently miserable. The android gingerly sat on the desk opposite, his mind still reeling from the altercation with Gavin, pulling up one of the computer tabs to upload files. Distractions were good, humans used that method all the time, but it needed to be something positive. He searched through his memory banks for a topic.“I saw a photo of the St Bernard on your desk…” 

“Oh yeah?” 

“I like dogs… What is his name?” Connor spoke without looking away from the database.

From across the desk, Hank pushed his chair backwards, turning his attention towards the android. “Sumo. I call him Sumo.” 

“Is it because he is so large?” 

Hank actually laughed at that one. Connor saw it as a social success. “Could say that. I knew he was gonna get pretty big. Dummy likes to think he’s still the size of a puppy.” 

He took his attention away from the database, his gaze flickering over to meet Hank’s own. Connor could see a sense of familiarity there… Something akin to the budding of a friendship. He could presume that it was something that Hank hadn’t experienced in a long time.

The homicide department was the loneliest of the bunch, Connor concluded. From the public records available on each of the key members; none of them were married, two of them were divorced for a number of years, and none of them had children. There was little to no chance of any relationship developing for each of them, or none that had been made public or obvious from social media posts. They all had fundamental flaws that Connor had picked up upon quickly. Hank was irritable, an alcoholic; Gavin was hostile, bordering on abusive; Reuben was a recluse; Cassidy was a workaholic; and Connor… Shouldn’t be seeing himself as part of the team. 

“Can I ask you a few questions, Lieutenant?” 

Hank looked like he wanted to either slam Connor’s face against the desk, or his own, Connor couldn’t work out which. 

“Go on then.” He sighed, mentally preparing for the worst. 

“The homicide department has the lowest marriage rate of the DPD’s departments. Why is that?” Connor watched as Hank let out an even heavier sigh than before, something he didn’t think was possible by human standards. But Hank was quite prone to surpassing expectations. 

“What kinda question is that? I dunno. Maybe none of us are meant for that stuff?” 

Connor hummed at the response. Definitely interesting. He desperately wanted to know more. 

“What is the homicide department’s stance on the LGBT+ community?” 

Hank furrowed his brows, looking at Connor as if he had physically grown another head, something that was definitely impossible even for an android. He just blinked at the Lieutenant, letting his question linger in the air between them. 

“Uh…” Hank started, letting out a short yet curt cough. “Nothing, I guess. I don’t really wanna know who everyone else is, or isn’t, fucking.” 

He could really do his own research. It was clearly something Hank wanted him to do because the poor Lieutenant was looking more uncomfortable by the minute. Perhaps he had something against the community? Though it didn’t seem likely, despite appearances, Hank didn’t seem like a bigot, just a drunk. He let out a short sigh, letting it linger, before continuing. 

“But there are members of this community in the department?” 

Hank let out a sigh, rubbing his hand across his face. “Look. I don’t know, probably, why do you want to know?”

“No reason.” 

“Hank, damn, there you are! We have an AX400 reported for attacking its owner. It was seen last in the Ravendale district, you might wanna head over there now.” 

“Oh thank fuck. Lets go, Connor.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Have an amazing New Year and I hope 2021 is kind to you <3


	5. The Nest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor is starting to feel. Literally a re-write of On the Run and The Nest but with my thoughts on what Connor would be thinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Depression has twated me in the face so I'm sorry if this chapter is sub-par. I shall do better with the next one.
> 
> Thank you for the kudos, hits and bookmark <3 I appreciate it all.

He’d… Let them go. Better yet, he had been  _ told _ to let them go. 

The AX400 was harbouring a little girl, protecting her, risking her life to get her to safety. What could have caused an android to act that way? An error in programming, yes that was the logical solution, but underneath all that… How? Connor himself hadn’t crossed the highway because it was too dangerous, but this android flung herself into moving traffic just to escape him. What programming could be so strong that it defies even basic instinct?

Connor wanted to shake the thought from his mind, which is exactly what he did as he approached the Chicken Feed. As he stood a few metres away, it was clear that Hank was talking to someone. A quick I.D track identified him as Pedro Aadbar, unemployed with a criminal record of illegal gambling. Hank certainly had an interesting choice of companions. 

Chicken Feed itself was another interesting spot. From what Connor had gathered, Hank was a regular at the establishment. It’s food hygiene licence had been suspended in 2031 and its last renewal request was denied, meaning that it was 7 years out of date for a renewal. Its owner was Gary Keyes, who had a criminal record for resisting arrest and the breach of hygiene regulations. Unsavoury didn’t even begin to cover it, and Connor wasn’t just meaning the food. 

He approached Hank slowly, looming in the corner of his vision. Hank didn’t look happy to see him. 

“What is your problem? Don’t you ever do as you're told?” Hank questioned, annoyance clear in his voice. “You don’t need to follow me around like a damn poodle!” 

The insinuation stung. He needed to make this right. The success of the case was depending on it. 

“I’m sorry if I offended you, Lieutenant. Perhaps we can start over?” 

Hank scoffed. “Sure. Whatever. I accept your apology.” He waved away the conversation with his hand. His last statement didn’t sound like something Lieutenant Anderson would say normally, actually, he was expecting Hank to tell him to just ‘fuck off’ and be done with it. Perhaps therapy was doing more harm than good? Cognitive Behavioural Therapy was the most likely process Dr Kravtsova was going through with him, and he was doing quite a good job of it too. 

The two men stayed silent for a couple of minutes. It wasn’t awkward by Connor’s definition, but Hank  _ hated _ the silence. It felt wrong. It felt forced. As soon as Gary called out his order he was relieved. At least now he had something to do rather than wait in uncomfortable silence with the semi-sentient tin can, because the jury was still out on that one. 

The rain battered down, the only thing shielding them being the thin fabric parasol that Gary probably stole for the seating area outside - if it could even be called a seating area. It was more like a standing area for dodgy deals to go on. And speaking of dodgy… 

“I don’t mean to alarm you, Lieutenant,” Connor started, leaning ever-so-slightly closer, shifting more of his weight onto his forearms. “But I think your friends are engaging in illegal activities.” 

Hank raised his brows and shrugged. He didn’t look too bothered by Connor’s perceptions. Connor was telling him things he already knew anyway. “Well, everyone does what they have to do to get by. As long as they’re not hurting anybody, I don’t bother them.” 

Connor thought for a moment. It was strange, having a police Lieutenant, enforcer of the law of the city of Detroit, being so unbothered by the potential illegal activities going on in his very vicinity - even participating in some of it himself! But his statement rang true. Connor knew there were exceptions to the rule, logically that was true, but in practice, his programming didn’t allow room for exceptions. 

He bit the inside corner of his lip. 

“This morning, when we were chasing those deviants… Why didn’t you want me to cross the highway?” 

It was a question that Connor genuinely wanted an answer to. It was twice in as many days that someone appeared to have concern for him. There was a flaw that humans had: assigning life to something that technically had none of it. Roombas, plushies, and now Androids. Hank had fallen into the very same flaw. 

Though that didn’t stop him from looking at Connor like he had just grown another head. 

“What? Cause you could’ve been killed!” Hank picked up on his mistake, stumbling over his words. “And I don’t like filling out paperwork for damaged equipment.” 

It was a blatant lie, but Connor still found pleasure in it. 

“Maybe I should tell you what we know about deviants?” He asked, and Hank looked suddenly relieved. Irritable and socially challenged, he was right. 

“You read my mind. Proceed.” 

Now he was in his element, discussing the facts, the theories, discussing the  _ mission _ . 

“We believe that a mutation occurs in the software of some androids, which leads them to emulating a human emotion.” Connor started before Hank raised his hand to stop him. 

“In English, please.” 

Connor let out a quick sigh. “They don’t really feel emotions, they just get overwhelmed by rational instructions, which can lead to unpredictable behaviour.” 

“Emotions always screw everything up.” He sounded like that comment came from experience. From the information that Connor had gathered, Hank was one of the two individuals in the homicide division that had been divorced… Perhaps that was what caused his emotional turmoil? “Maybe androids aren’t as different from us as we thought… You ever dealt with deviants before?” 

From his memory core, Connor could pull up every second from that very first night - the night he encountered Daniel. He could replay every twitch of Captain Allen’s face, every decibel of Dr Kravtsova’s voice. 

“A few months back… A deviant was threatening to jump off a roof with a little girl.” Connor didn’t dare move his gaze away from Hank’s. “I managed to save her, with Dr Kravtsova’s assistance. I was sent to represent Cyberlife, while Dr Kravtsova was sent to represent the Detroit Police Department.” 

Hank nodded. “So, guess you’ve done all your homework, right? Know everything there is to know about me?” 

His choice here felt unstable. He could lie, say that he didn’t, that he didn’t care enough to bother. But the image of Dr Kravtsova’s notepad entered his head, when the very same debate came up in the interrogation. 

_ TELL THE TRUTH. _

“I know you graduated top of your class. You made a name for yourself in several cases, and became the youngest Lieutenant in Detroit.” Hank raised a brow, seemingly surprised at his knowledge. “I also know you’ve received several disciplinary warnings in recent years and… You spend a lot of time in bars.” 

“And Reuben?” 

_ Ah. _ A slightly more difficult question, but not one Connor was unprepared to answer. He had done his research on the reclusive doctor quite early on, just after their first meeting in fact. 

“I know that Dr Kravtsova graduated as the valedictorian of his year at Princeton University. He joined DPD in 2035 and has been in a lot of high profile cases. But he is reclusive and there is rumour that he has been a victim of domestic violence.” 

Purposefully, Connor didn’t research into that too much. A choice that may backfire on him but it was one that he was willing to take. 

“So, what’s your conclusion?” 

“I think working with officers with… Personal issues are an added challenge, but adapting to human unpredictability is one of my features.” Connor winked. It was an automatic reaction that he wasn’t able to stop. Strange. He thought he had more control than that. 

Connor’s LED light flickered yellow briefly. 

“I just got a report of a suspected deviant a few blocks away… We should have a look. I’ll be in the car if you need me.” 

***

“Hey. You gonna stay inside that elevator all day or what?” 

Hank’s voice called him from his thoughts. The report to Cyberlife was almost complete - a routine check up on where he was, how he was doing, any programming malfunctions that needed to be assessed. Nothing of severe consequence to mention. The file stated that a noise complaint had been noted by a neighbour coming from this floor, the odd thing being about it was that this floor was supposedly uninhabited and had been for almost a decade. There had also been mention of sightings of a man trying to hide an LED light underneath a beanie. 

“No.” Connor sharply replied. “I was just finishing a report to Cyberlife.” 

The Lieutenant scoffed. “You can really send a report like that? Just by closing your eyes?” 

Connor gave a brief hum of approval as a response.

It was only then that Connor exited the elevator. The ride up had been… Unpleasant, and the floor they arrived on somehow didn’t make the scene any better. The walls were crumbling at the seams, plaster littering the floor alongside flecks of decades old wallpaper. It would make any human flinch at its filth but Hank wasn’t all too bothered, Connor guessed he had seen many of these corridors before.

What did catch his eye, however, was the sheer multitude of  _ feathers _ that adorned the sidelines of the corridors. When he knelt down, homing in his analytics on a particular bunch, he inferred that they were… Pigeon feathers? 

“So what do we know?” 

“Not much.” Connor replied honestly. “Just that a neighbour reported that he heard strange noises coming from this floor. Nobody is supposed to be living here, but the neighbour said that he saw a man hiding a LED under his cap.” 

He caught Hank’s eye. He looked positively  _ thrilled _ at the lack of information. 

“Oh Christ, if we have to investigate every time someone hears a strange noise, we’re gonna need more cops.” 

Statistically, Connor thought, Hank was correct with that statement. But it could be largely covered by foot patrol officers if the DPD so wished it. 

The door looked sturdy. If not for the peeling paint and rusted lock, Connor would have presumed at one point this would be a very nice apartment in central Detroit, but alas, things did not stay the same forever. He knocked once and when there was no answer, he knocked again. Much to both of their dismay, there was no sound coming from inside the apartment. 

Connor looked at Hank, who just shrugged. 

“Open up, Detroit Police!”  _ That _ call from Connor seemed to awaken the apartment from its slumber. Something crashed about inside, causing Hank to pull out his handgun and step silently in front of Connor. 

“Stay behind me.” 

Connor nodded. “Got it.” 

Hank’s foot collided with the door with an obscene  _ bang _ , snapping the already fragile, rusty lock in two. He stepped a few metres inside, looking around, before Connor followed in his footsteps. 

The hallway was covered in mould, its previously decorated wallpaper peeling and in rolls on the floorboards. There were two doors to the right, each already open and accessible, while the one on the left remained closed, though it seemed that the door at the very top of the apartment was Hank’s first port of call. Vaguely, Connor could hear faint coos from within.  _ Pigeons _ . 

As soon as Hank pushed open the door, a flock of pigeons flew out, cascading past the two men close enough to smack them with their wings. “What the fuck is this?!” The room  _ stank _ of bird feces. It was overwhelming to the point where Hank felt like he needed to cover his nose with his inner elbow. “Jesus, this place stinks.” 

It was also dark, the windows covered with dirty curtains that Connor suspected used to be white. There was minimal furniture; a desk, a kitchenette, a built-in radiator, a few cabinets that had been left to rot. In his mind he detailed his objectives. First, he needed to investigate the apartment, which meant that he needed to confirm that the suspect was even deviant at all, and then find the cause of the loud noise the neighbour had been complaining about.

His investigation quickly defined his first point. The walls were decorated in labyrinthian spirals, each holding a new shape and passage to the centre. On the wall with the radiator, Connor noted two of them; one in a triangular shape with smaller, thinner, labyrinth walls, and the second was circular, with more detailed and varying inner walls. The inhabitant also had a large green graffiti in the centre stating: UFO. 

Though as Connor stepped closer, he noticed that the graffiti was not in fact attached to the wall, but instead was a poster covering some sort of hole. Androids didn’t care much for the state of surroundings, they weren’t affected whether the wall had a hole in it or not, so this was purposeful… A deterrent. He reached forward, taking an already peeling corner and tugging, allowing the poster to fall onto the floor with ease. Within the cavity, there was only one item. A book. He quickly took it. It felt worn, old, well used. Flipping the first few pages open, it was more labyrinths, more codes that would take weeks to decipher. 

“Found something?” Hank called out from the opposite end of the room. He tucked the journal in his back pocket. 

“I don’t know… It looks like a notebook but its indecipherable.” Connor answered, walking towards where Hank called from. He passed the fridge, briefly opening it to check inside. Nothing. So the suspect didn’t eat. If someone was living here regularly, then they couldn’t be human. The counter-tops of the kitchenette were filled with bird feed. The suspect cared for wild animals? An emotional response to the prospect of suffering. The suspect was well leaning on the side of deviancy. But the most damning evidence was soon to come, as while Connor walked into the bathroom, he noted something he had seen before. rA9. Covering the walls from ceiling to skirting board, was the word ‘rA9’ written over and over and over again. 

What  _ was _ rA9? Could he be an android? A school of thought? 

“Any idea what it means?” 

“rA9… Written 2471 times. It was the same sign Ortiz’s android wrote on the shower wall…” He sighed, furrowing his brows. “Why are they obsessed with this sign?” 

“It looks like mazes or something.” Hank pointed out, referencing the labyrinthian drawings on the walls. 

It was obsessive compulsive writing, that was for sure. But  _ why _ ? The viscosity of the marker showed that the suspect was here recently. He glanced to the floor. A knocked over stool greeted his gaze - was this the source of the noise? 

The suspect must have fallen off the stool, knocked into some of the shelves, and then made their way into the living area. But, again,  _ why _ ? His mind ran with potential circumstances and he turned towards the bathroom sink. It was filled with dried leaves but it was too dark to see the contents of the liquid. He dipped his index and middle fingers into the basin and pressed it against his tongue. Blue blood. WB200 model, number 847 004 961. This particular android had been registered as missing since 10/11/2036, almost two years ago. The source of the blue blood was found quickly. The LED light that marked all androids was sitting on the rim of the sink. It was deactivated today. 

“It’s LED is on the sink.” 

“Not surprised it was an android. No human could live with all these fucking pigeons.” 

Carrying onto the living room, Connor looked towards a fallen birdcage, covered in feathers and faeces. It was stainless steel, heavy enough to make a rather loud crash if it fell to the ground. It was likely that this is what the neighbours were complaining about. But the fraying of the steel wire hinted that it was only very recently snapped meaning that…

The deviant had rushed towards the door, knocking over the birdcage as he did. He heard them enter. But where then? There was no time to rush through a window. 

So the deviant was still here. 

He looked towards the ceiling, but as soon as he was under the gap, the deviant dropped down, pushing Connor aside to rush out of the door. 

The chase was on. Homing in on his target, Connor’s instructions became clear: expose the suspect, whatever it takes. 

Without warning, Connor skidded out of the apartment, leaping over metal shelving that the deviant had thrown in his way. Something akin to adrenaline rushed through him. Nothing mattered more than apprehending the target,  _ nothing _ was more important than the mission.

He needed to complete his instructions. 

The deviant raced across the rooftop before dropping down into what appeared to be a rooftop wheat field. Connor knew that he was probably hoping to lose Connor in the maize but Connor was better than that, stronger, quicker. He wasn’t fueled by the insistent panic that the deviant was. He dropped down into the field mere metres behind him, quickly deciding on the best course of action. A combine harvester was making its way across the field, and Connor found himself making a choice. Safe route, fast but risky, or balanced. He had confidence in his abilities, racing in the same direction of the deviant. He leaped onto the oncoming hay bale with ease before jumping onto the back of the harvester, balancing his landing just in time for him to be able to jump again onto the other rooftop. 

There was a greenhouse, but no, it would be too crowded, more likely to do some damage. The path beside it was safer, easier, so he ran along the side, hot on the heels of the deviant. From there, Connor analysed that the deviant would leap from the roof, sliding down the hard plastic panelling and into the adjacent building. Risky, but Connor knew what he had to do. He repeated the deviants process, pushing off the hard plastic and landing with bent knees into the adjacent building. It looked like an indoor greenhouse, dark and humid but he didn’t have time to pay attention to the architecture. The deviant was gaining seconds on him, slipping underneath the shutter door with ease. 

_ Shit.  _

Another route. Outside. He snapped right. The smell of lavender hit his senses but he managed to tune it out, shutting off that particular mechanic in order to home in on the target’s whereabouts. He was above, running across the railings above Connor’s head. He quickly identified a ladder at the opposite end of the field, not breaking his break-neck pace for a second as he approached, jumping onto the ladder and climbing up with ease. Connor dodged a few people, twisting his body around there's so that he could pass through. 

The deviant had paused on the roof, clearly deciding on what his next destination would be. But wherever he went, Connor was determined to follow. The deviant leaped from the edge, sliding down another long arch of hard plastic. The railway was underneath, just in time. Connor maneuvered his body, aiming for just the right moment to leap from the rooftop and onto the moving train beneath. The success rate was minimal, but it didn’t phase him. His body sang for the rush, smirking to himself as he landed expertly on the roof of the train. It would take at least another minute of running to eventually catch up to the deviant. Luckily for them, Connor could do this all day. 

He grabbed another ladder on the side of the tracks, climbing upwards and into yet another field. The stalks were so tall that Connor couldn’t see past them, holding up his arm in a vain attempt to stop them smacking him in the face as he ran. 

Connor pushed through just in time to see the altercation. Hank had caught up to the deviant before he did but they struggled, pushing until Hank lost his footing, slipping over the edge of the building. It allowed the deviant time to rush off in the opposite direction. 

He needed to complete the mission. 

He needed to capture the deviant, he needed to follow instructions, he needed to expose the suspect, he needed to do what Cyberlife had ordered him to do…

_ He needed to save Hank _ . 

Connor’s LED flickered yellow as he lurched forward, grabbing Hank by the forearms in order to pull him upwards. 

“Shit! Shit! We almost had it.” Hank cursed, out of breath and leaning his entire body weight on one leg. 

“It’s my fault. I should have been faster.” Now it was Connor’s turn to sound wounded. 

Hank shook his head. “No. You would have caught it if it weren’t for me.” He glanced up at Connor’s LED light for a second, seeing it still swirling a deep yellow. “It’s alright. We know what it looks like. We’ll get him.” 

_ What had he  _ **_done_ ** _? _


	6. The Eden Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy this is a long chapter. As the title suggests it centres around The Eden Club section of the game but with Reuben slapped right in the middle of it. Connor discovers what jealousy is, Reuben makes a good decision for once and Hank is recovering from getting dunked in a bath.
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: minor character death, resurrection, violence, descriptions of injuries, mentions of domestic violence, swearing, British English

“Ah, Dr Fuckoff! So good of you to join us today.” 

After the whole coffee fiasco, Reuben had tried, oh he had tried, to get maybe an ounce of work done. But it was all endless conversations, rehashing the same few words over and over again and, of course, 15 missed calls from David alerting him to the fact that he had forgotten to empty the dishwasher, then an interrogation about where he was. Because of course he was off with some other guy instead of actually working and putting food on the table. As if Reuben had any spare time that would allow him to cheat nevermind run off somewhere.

Reuben flipped Gavin off, his jaw tensing into a cutting line, teeth grinding together painfully hard. His back molars were beginning to suffer from the stress, aching at the root by the constant pressure that he put them under. He couldn’t be assed today. Every moment he was awake was a time wasted. He could be at home, nursing his wounds, tending to his aching muscles and hiding away until David was drunk enough not to bother him. But no. He was at work, doing interviews he didn’t care about, talking to people who annoyed him, and having to contend with being in copious amounts of pain to top it off. He put his briefcase on his desk with a loud thud, moving his notes messily onto the centre of the desk, not even bothering to order them. 

“Dr Kravtsova, could I have a word with you in my office?” Fowler called across the main office area, immediately causing Reuben’s face to crumple into a scowl. Really? He sighed, shutting his briefcase noisily, clipping it shut with as much anger as he could muster, before walking down the main isle. He passed Hank’s desk on his way but didn’t bother looking closely at it. The Lieutenant was off on some case, thank fuck. That meant he didn’t need to deal with the smell of booze at work as well as at home.

“Captain Fowler.” Reuben said, slipping into the glass-walled office and shutting the door behind him. Fowler’s face was nonchalant. “If this is about the HR reports, I’m on it.” 

“No, no, Reuben, that’s fine. Actually, we have decided to bring in a psychologist from an independent organisation to sort all of that out.” 

“W-What? Are you trying to put me out of a job?!” Reuben’s face flared red, his hands clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides. This wasn’t happening, this couldn’t be happening. Fowler didn’t seem to notice his anger, because he waved away the comment with a laugh. 

“Actually the opposite. We, as in the board, are transferring you onto the deviancy case with Lieutenant Anderson.” 

“Oh for fucks sake!” Reuben growled, fisting a hand into his hair. “Will I ever get a break from that fucking drunk and his tin bestie?! Can I not have a fucking normal day for once?!” David was rubbing off of him. It wasn’t David’s fault they turned up to his house, asking stupid questions and getting him locked in the spare room for a whole night, starving and battered. But it wasn’t theirs either. No. It was Reuben’s. It was all Reuben’s fault. He let out a jagged sigh. “I… I don’t genuinely believe that.” 

“I know.” 

“A lot has been happening and I…” 

“Reuben.” Fowler emphasised, reaching a hand across the table. “I know. It’s okay. I think this might be good for you. There’s late nights, you get to spend time with people, I can even arrange a residency for you if you want.” 

“Jeff… I don’t need help.” Reuben swallowed thickly. “I’m fine.” 

The look of pity… For the first time in a long time, Reuben was sure he saw tears in Fowler’s eyes. 

“I know, kid, but… Just think about it. I’m assigning you to the case no matter what but…” Fowler sighed, removing his hand to reveal a small silver key. “Take it. You know the address. Just in case you’re ever not fine.” 

The psychologist debated for a moment. 

Was it failure or was it freedom? 

He grabbed the key, stuffing it into his back jeans pocket. 

“Right, good. Now here’s the files, catch up on what you can and I’ll let you know if anything develops.” 

***

Luckily for Reuben, that call didn’t take long. It took a lot of coaxing, pouring extra glasses and stronger measures to get David out for the count at near enough 8 o’clock. He hated looking at him, hated even being near his presence. The thought of having to share a bed with him for one more night made bile rise up his throat. The key burned in his pocket, taunting him with an out. Failure was beginning to look more appealing, if yesterday's battering was anything to go by, Reuben didn’t think he was going to survive another one. Infinite amount of turtle necks saved him from the embarrassment of people knowing. He pushed on a fresh one, black and up tight against his chin so there was no chance of anyone guessing. There was no point in looking in the mirror, Reuben knew what he looked like. He looked like a battered wife, weak and fragile and nothing like the man he was. Before he left, he packed a rucksack, filling it to the brim of useless items and special sentimental knick-knacks, things he couldn’t bare to leave alone. 

It didn’t feel like a goodbye. But deep down he knew it was. He said to himself he’d stay there a night, see if David came searching for him, and if he didn’t then he’d stay another night. Just two nights couldn’t do any harm. He needed space. That was all. 

He didn’t feel brave. He didn’t feel happy. He felt… Nothing. 

Reuben didn’t feel anything until he watched Hank’s car roll up outside the Eden Club, his rucksack full of belongings weighing down his shoulder. He didn’t even feel the cold against his pale skin or the smattering of snow landing on his hair. There was nothing there. A dark emptiness that felt something akin to relief and, deep down, confusion. What the fuck was he going to do now?

It didn’t feel like there was something lingering in his mind but there was a spark of something, somewhere, in his gut when he watched Connor and Hank exit the car. A hope.

“What’re you doing here?” Hank’s words were slurred as he approached Reuben, just enough to be coherent. Unlike David, Hank was a harmless drunk, more likely to do harm to himself than anyone else around him. But somehow that didn’t put him at ease. Even the smell of alcohol on his breath made Reuben want to recoil. 

“Dr Kravtsova has been assigned to the deviancy case as of this morning.” Connor answered for him, sparing a brief glance Reuben’s way. There was something different about the android, he thought, something he couldn’t put his finger on just yet. “Captain Fowler thinks that his prior experience on the case will help us.”

“Alright then.” Hank cleared his throat, trying to throw a smile Reuben’s way. He looked up towards the sign above the Eden Club, furrowing his brows. “The sexiest androids in town, huh? Now I know why you insisted on coming here.” His quip was directed at Connor, but Reuben couldn’t help but smile at the playfulness. 

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

The three men approached the entrance, walking through the holographic police tape as they did. Reuben caught Connor looking back at the screens that decorated the main entrance before stepping into the reception hallway. There were two rows of androids, three in each, on either side of the hall, all of which in minimal clothing. 

Reuben couldn’t help but feel sorry for them in a way, left in tubes to be gawked at was no way to live. Looking at people without having the ability to speak or touch, it sounded like torture. 

The Eden Club was lit up with minimal lighting. Holographic areas of the walls switched from pink, to purple, to blue and then back again, flowing into each gradient in a way that was calming to the eyes yet still undeniably sensual. The same gradient lit up the podiums lining the middle of the floor, different sex worker androids doing their best to appease despite no customers being anywhere near the establishment. Hank walked straight past them, heading straight for what appeared to be another officer nearing the centre of the club, while Reuben noticed Connor’s gaze flicker back towards the androids. 

Someone was interested. 

“Hey Hank!” The man they approached was short and rotund. Reuben didn’t recognise him. 

“Hey, Brynn, how's it going?” A rhetorical question, based on politeness instead of any real need to understand how the other officer was feeling. Hank seemed sober already - the man was a good actor, or had the superhuman ability to expel all alcohol from his system in a matter of seconds. Either way, Reuben was impressed.

“It’s that room there.” Brynn motioned to the door to the right of them. Across the middle there was a red ‘OCCUPIED’ sign. “Oh, uh, by the way, Gavin’s in there too.”

“Oh, great.” Hank took the words right out of Reuben’s mouth. “A dead body and an asshole. Just what I needed.” 

Hank took the initiative to enter the room first, followed by Connor and then Reuben lingering along behind. The psychologist wanted to stay as far away from the prick as possible. Having to work with him for a few hours of the day was hard enough, having to spend his evening with him? It was not something Reuben could handle without another dead body being added to the mess. 

The room was white walled, aside for some red sensual gradient lighting similar to the ones in the hallway. A circular bed was situated in the left side of the room, where their victim lay sprawled out and modestly covered by burgundy silk sheets. 

“Lieutenant Anderson and his plastic pet.” Gavin started, arms crossed over his chest. “And look! We have a new addition to the gang, Dr Tin Fucker himself!”

“Oh knock it off.” Hank snapped. 

“The fuck are you three doing here?” 

“We have been assigned all cases including androids.” Connor’s voice was as calm as ever, looking over to Hank then Reuben and then back to Gavin again. 

“Oh yeah? Well you’re wasting your time. This is some pervert who uh,” Gavin cut himself off with a laugh. Reuben stepped forward slightly, his hand itching to just smack the bastard. “Got more action than he could handle.” He wheezed out another laugh. 

“We’d like to have a look anyway, if you don’t mind.” Hank turned to the other detective, who just huffed. 

“Come on, lets go, its uh,” Gavin approached Hank. “Its starting to stink of booze in here.” 

He knocked Connor’s shoulder on the way out. 

With Gavin gone, Connor’s mission became clear. He needed to investigate the scene, which meant investigating the victim and the android. He knelt down beside the android, and Reuben dropped his rucksack by the side of the door before moving to join him. The poor girl was a mess, blue blood dripping down from her nose and into her mouth. Reuben had to resist the urge to grab a paper towel to wipe it. At least she could look more dignified in death. Beside him, Connor reached forward, dipping his index and middle fingers into the blood and bringing it to his mouth. 

“Woah, woah, hey hey hey! Ugh Connor, you’re so disgusting! I think I’m going to puke again.” 

Again? Seemed like Hank already had a fun night before Reuben even arrived. 

The android stared at his fingers for a moment, obviously analysing them. “Model WB400, serial number 429 671 942.” Connor thought out-loud, then reached forward with his other hand to press against her LED light. “Selector 5402 and biocomponent 6970 is critically damaged.” 

When Connor stood, Reuben turned his head to face Hank. “Do you think I could wipe the blood off her face? It’s just… it doesn’t feel right to leave her like that.” 

Hank nodded, watching as Reuben and Connor went their separate ways - one to analyse the other victim and one to pay respect to the dead. So similar yet entirely different. 

“The victim is Michael Graham, estimated time of death is 6:24pm.” Connor stated just as Reuben wiped the last amount of blue blood from her face, placing the used tissues in the bin beside him. “It seems that the cause of death is asphyxiation. He didn’t die from a heart attack.”

Reuben winced. The bruises on his own neck seemed to pulse and ache of their own accord, bringing his attention to his own injuries instead of the one of the victim. Though he supposed in a way they were both victims, and he was sure that both of them brought it quite upon themselves. With the pads of his index and middle finger, Reuben pressed into his jugular earning low ‘ouch’ to escape his lips. Luckily for him, he thought no one noticed. 

“Yeah, I saw the bruising. That doesn’t prove anything though, could have been rough play.” 

“The only way to access its memory is to reactivate it.” Connor approached Reuben, kneeling down beside him once again. There was a look in his eye, something akin to sympathy. 

“Are you wanting to do that?” Reuben asked, and Connor nodded. 

“It’s badly damaged, if I can activate it it’ll only be for a minute.” Connor pressed his hands on her stomach, opening up her central chamber. “Maybe even less. I just hope its long enough to learn something. Dr Kravtsova, would you talk to her?”

Reuben gulped, biting the inside corner of his lip. “Of course.” 

Connor grabbed the two wires inside of her stomach and pressed them together. Immediately the woman gasped to life, rolling onto her side and heaving breathlessly. 

“It’s alright, it’s okay.” Reuben quickly began. She continued to panic, whimpering as she pushed herself into the corner of the room. “Take a deep breath now, that’s it. In through your nose and out through your mouth.” 

Connor stood, backing away from the situation to stand next to Hank. All they did was watch. 

Reuben knelt next to her, though far enough away that he wasn’t too much into her space. A panicked mind acted like a wounded animal and, from personal experience, Reuben wouldn’t want anyone too close to him after he had been attacked as well. Her breaths calmed, following his advice by sucking lungfuls of air through her nose and then blowing them out her mouth again. Reuben didn’t care about the lack of time they had, he just cared about making her second deactivation more peaceful than the last. 

“It’s okay, don’t worry. My name is Reuben, do you know where you are?” 

“T-The Eden Club…” She stuttered, turning her head to the side. “Is he… Is he dead?” 

Reuben nodded. “What happened, sweetheart?” 

Connor took a step back, his LED light flickering and flashing a deep yellow. Sweetheart. A term of endearment, devotion, something that individuals tended to call their lovers. Within seconds he had processed 229,000,000 results on the word. Movies, songs, books, so many things named after this one precious endearment that felt like a punch to Connor’s gut. If someone was a ‘sweetheart’ it was typical that they were in a romantic relationship. As he spoke, Reuben’s voice sounded like the way honey tasted - sweet and soothing, dripping down Connor’s throat like it was him he was talking to. His mind buzzed, his surroundings fading back to white noise. Sweetheart. But why did he call her that? Out of everyone, why her? Why was that act of endearment associated with a Traci he had just met?

There was a bitterness that was bubbling underneath the surface, something he did his best to push down.

He felt a jolt in his chest, like a bad taste on his tongue, swimming up from his stomach and up to his throat, coating his mouth with acidic bitterness. Hank turned to him and quirked a brow. 

“You been sucking on lemons?” Hank whispered, leaning in slightly. Connor didn’t satisfy him with a response.

“He… He started hitting me again, and again.” The girl hiccupped, tears now flowing freely down her cheeks. “He wouldn’t stop.” 

“Its okay, don’t worry, you’re safe now. Did you kill him?” If she was the culprit, then that would mean that androids trauma and violent acts may be liked, but why? Could it just be correlation and causation? Or was it deviance that was truly the one linked to trauma? 

“No. No I didn’t.” 

“Were you alone, sweetheart?” 

There it was again, that word that Connor had begun to despise. 

“N-No. He wanted to play with two girls, that’s what he said, t-two of us” 

“Did you see where the other girl went? Do you know her name?"

The girl shook her head, causing more tears to fall down her cheeks. Reuben fished out a tissue from his pocket, handing it to her silently. "She was… She was a blue haired Traci. Am I going to be deactivated again?“ Her question was met with silence and a sympathetic look, the same one he gave to his clients, the same one Dr Reid gave to him. "C-Can you stay with me, before I… I…"

Oh. Reuben's heart shattered in his chest. Wordlessly he moved forward, leaning so that his back was against the wall. The silence was deafening as she lay her head down on his lap, Reuben's hand going immediately to stroke her hair. 

"It's alright, don't worry. Everything is going to be okay." He whispered, running his hand through her hair. "Just take a deep breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth. We're gonna do this together, you're not alone."

She grasped his hand. "Thank you."

"You're alright, sweetheart."

Connor turned away. Something was eating away at him, gnawing at his stomach. It was bitter and sour and ridiculous and irrational. He didn’t even know what to call it. 

10 seconds passed before the Traci closed her eyes again, lulled into deactivation again. In his chest, Reuben felt as if his heart was being torn out, ripped out and stomped on by some unknown deity. Poor girl. That poor, poor girl. 

“She’s gone, Doc.” Hank gave Reuben a quick smile before shrugging. He watched as the psychologist gently moved her head to the ground, standing up. He looked as if he was about to cry for a moment but he managed to hold himself together, Hank waited until he was in the clear before speaking again. “So there was another android. This happened over an hour ago, its probably long gone.” 

“No.” Connor said sharply, causing both Hank and Reuben to look towards him. He turned around again, his eyes resting on the psychologist, who looked more nervous than before. “It couldn’t go outside dressed like that unnoticed. It might still be here.” 

“I would suspect so.” Reuben confirmed, his voice stoic, his face expressionless. It was a numbness that Hank recognised. “I think you’re going along the right lines, Connor.” 

“Do you think we could find a deviant among all the other androids in this place?” Hank asked and Reuben knew that the question wasn’t meant for him, so he stayed silent, avoiding looking at either of the bodies. He didn’t think he could stomach it. That poor girl. No one deserved a death like that, not even an android.

“Deviants are especially difficult to find.” 

“There’s gotta be some other way. Maybe an eyewitness, someone who saw it leaving the room.” 

Reuben thought for a moment. “Another android? In the booths there are loads of androids, at least one of them could have seen something.” He picked up his rucksack, swinging it over one shoulder.

“Alright. You two try and figure something out, I’m gonna talk to the manager and see if he saw anything. If you find something, let me know.” 

Reuben sighed, leaning against the wall outside of the victim’s room. Everything was so bright here, too bright almost, and the amount of androids seemed… Overwhelming. Everything about this day was overwhelming. He rubbed a hand over his face. God, when did weakness seep into his bones and immobilise him? Was it when he accepted the key? Was it when he left the house? Even before that? 

Part of him thought that the weakness had been flowing through him his whole life, tearing him down piece by piece until he was nothing but rags on the floor.

“Are you alright, Dr Kravtsova?” Connor asked, the android appearing in front of him. “I noticed that you’re experiencing some pain in your neck, do you want me to inspect it?” 

“No.” Reuben snapped but immediately sighed. Taking his pain out on Connor wasn’t fair, to either of them. “Sorry. It’s been a tough day, it’s just stress, don’t worry about it.” 

They both knew he was lying, it was just figuring out who was going to confront it first. 

“There are no blue haired Traci’s in any of the pods.” Connor looked around as he spoke, scanning the area. 

He knew that this place made both of his human companions uncomfortable. There were numerous reasonings that could have been behind it. Androids being used as sex workers was one, and probably the most reliable option to go for. Humans having sex with Androids was another, but the topic of human and android relations hadn’t come into conversation and Connor wasn’t willing to stake a claim on either side. He knew that neither were uncomfortable with death, so it wasn’t that…

“So she’s either left, or found somewhere to hide.” Reuben suggested, pushing off of the wall with his shoulder. “I’m assuming its the latter.”

“I can access the memories of some of the surrounding androids?” Connor quirked a brow.

“Sure. Just some of the accessible ones though, purchases from The Eden Club isn’t going to look good on my card.” 

Connor began to walk towards one of the Traci’s on the podium just outside of the victim’s room. She was dancing sensually despite no one being there to watch her apart from them. Reuben dropped his rucksack on one of the empty podiums. It would be safe there for now. Connor gripped the girl’s forearm, each of their hands up to their elbows going a pure white. Reuben couldn’t look away. It was like their skin just melted away to show… Their true appearance? Or at least without their programmed appearance. 

“It seems that the Traci walked towards the entrance but then headed back into the club.” Connor mused, releasing the android’s arm. “Maybe she was trying to throw us off the scent?” 

“Maybe…” The psychologist's mind felt foggy. What would he do in this situation? Running away seemed like the best option, clothes could always be found or stolen, but why would he head back inside? It would be pointless, he would be putting himself in harms way for what? What could possibly be so important to risk being discovered for… “Wait!” Reuben reached out in front of him, grabbing Connor’s to tug him back. 

Connor looked down to where they were connected, watching the way Reuben’s fingers twitched around his arm. “Have you discovered something?” The android stepped forward, closing himself into Reuben’s space. He looked down at him, their height difference meant that Reuben had to look up at him through his eyelashes just to meet his gaze. Reuben felt his heart rate pick up. There was something… Intimate about the moment. 

The fear caused Reuben to look away, letting go of Connor’s arm. In front of him, Connor didn’t move an inch other than placing his hand back at his side. 

“Why would someone put themselves in the position where they could get caught?” Reuben started. “Say you murdered someone, you had time to escape, but you didn’t run away? You could be free, never be caught, why would you turn around?” 

Connor thought for a moment, Reuben idly watched his LED light flicker in thought. 

“To… To…” 

“To take someone with you, Connor.” Reuben answered for him. “A friend, a fellow deviant, it’s a stretch but I think I might be right. Say you were that Traci, you had a chance to escape but you knew I was still here, still in danger.” 

“I’d come back for you.” Connor answered quickly, cutting him off. Reuben swallowed hard. 

“Exactly. So the Traci went back inside, we know she’s still here. Let’s check some of the other androids.” 

The two men took off quickly to the other end of the club, following the footsteps of the blue haired deviant through the eyes of the numerous worker androids scattered about. Finally they got to the janitor, Connor gripping his forearm in the same way he did with the other androids. It took a couple moments for him to figure out just what he had seen through his eyes. 

“I know where it went, follow me!” 

“Shouldn’t we get Hank?!” Reuben called out, jogging a couple of steps to catch up with Connor, who was already pressing his hand against the staff door.

“There’s no time.” The android spoke back, slipping into the ajar door just as it was sliding open.

What greeted them was a narrow hallway, white light illuminating their way down. At the end of it was a blue door, with a sign in yellow that stated: CAUTION - licensed personnel only. Connor made his way through the door, giving them access to what appeared to be a large storage unit. The walls were a mixture of brick and half-assed plaster coating only the outer edges of the walls themselves. On the left hand side there were two rows of washing machines stacked on top of the other, Reuben presumed that these were for washing bedsheets, clothes, and other items that their clients came into contact with while renting out one of the androids. A wash hadn’t been put on that day, as towels were thrown haphazardly on top of the machines. Further on into the room on the same side there was what looked to be an operating table, an android having already been placed on top of it - the result of foul play? How many other androids had been killed by clients while this place had been open? Was it only because a human had died that the DPD were informed? Reuben shuddered at the thought. 

“Damn it.” Reuben exclaimed, his eyes finally landing on the wide open shutter door. “We might be too late.” 

“I wouldn’t be so sure, Dr Kravtsova, the deviant might still be here.” Connor took the left side of the room, while Reuben wandered to the right. On his side, there were mainly shelves of boxes and tools that Reuben didn’t know the name of. He spent time analysing the particular items on the shelf while Connor moved swiftly throughout the room, checking each section of idle androids. Reuben turned to face Connor, opening his mouth to speak, but was cut off by the appearance of a deviant shoving its way into Connor. 

But it wasn’t the blue haired Traci… Reuben was right. 

“Shit! Wait, stop!” Reuben moved forward, calling out to the deviant as he did. Pain rushed to his side as he was tackled, pushing him to the ground with a thud. The blue haired Traci quickly climbed on top of him, raising her fist in preparation for a punch, she was straddling his waist, squeezing her knees so tight into his waist that sharp daggers of pain shot up his ribcage. He raised his arms up, watching as she lowered down her fist to smack off his forearm. Reuben gritted his teeth as he moved to sit up, fighting through the pain as his fist collided with her face, snapping it to the side. The shock gave him time enough to push her back, sending her tumbling to the ground. 

He managed to get to his feet just in time to see the other deviant grab a screwdriver, gripping it in both hands with the clear intention of driving it through Connor’s skull. 

No. 

Reuben only moved forward a few steps before the Traci grabbed him by his jumper collar, yanking him back, causing him to splutter. “Let fucking go.” He gritted out, turning and pushing his forearms between her grip and using them to push against her wrists. She managed to get a flailing smack against his shoulder. He grabbed her hand as she went for another smack. A crash alerted him to Connor pushing over one of the shelves. Reuben grabbed both of her hands, launching his head forward to smack it against hers. 

Someone remind him to never do that again.

He recovered quicker than she did, giving him time to rush over to the shutter entrance, where Connor and the other deviant soon slammed into the concrete flooring. His heart stuttered in his chest, panic rising up his body until he overflowed, spilling out from the seams of his self-control. He called out the android’s name as he lurched forward, racing to get to his companion before any other damage was done.

What Reuben didn’t expect, however, was the Traci to run along beside him. 

Skidding on his knees, Reuben leaped down and knelt by Connor’s side. His LED was flashing yellow, swirling and flickering. “Connor.” Reuben breathed out, not paying attention to the Traci and the other deviant helping each other up and staring as the psychologist reached to tug at his jacket. “Connor, get up. Please get up.” 

Connor jolted upwards, warmth spreading through his body. He glanced to the side, the two deviants were… Holding hands? As soon as he moved, the deviant’s rushed towards the exit, climbing up the wire fencing.

Pushing upwards, Connor ran towards the deviants, gripping the blue haired Traci by her hair and dragging her back down. The other deviant dropped down, but Reuben got there first, pushing her into the adjacent wall before she could get to Connor. Seeing that, the Traci released her grip of Connor, shoving him to the side in favour of landing a blow to Reuben’s stomach. The blow toppled him over, sending him cascading into the ground, dragging the blue haired Traci with him. Connor watched as the deviant grabbed one of the nearby garbage cans, readying to swing it against Reuben’s head. The impact would cause a lot of damage, most definitely a concussion if not unconsciousness. He raised his gun, readying it to shoot. He had the perfect moment, the perfect opportunity...

“Stop!” Connor shouted, his LED turning a deep red. The gun dropped at his side. He shouldn’t be doing this, the mission was all that mattered. He was doing what Cyberlife had ordered him to - eliminating the deviants. But he couldn’t stop himself, he didn’t want to stop himself. “He isn’t the enemy!”

Everyone paused, the deviant lowering her weapon slowly until she dropped it on the ground. She stepped closer to Connor, crowding his space while he just stood there, watching her. Reuben let out a splutter, wincing as he wrapped a protective arm around his stomach.

“You’re like us.” She whispered, turning towards the Traci. She had let go of Reuben, allowing him to slump to the ground. On instinct he crawled a few steps away from the deviant, raising his jumper to look at the damage done. “If I don’t hurt the human, will you let us go?”

“Yes.” His response was immediate. Connor was really going against his programming now, nodding and wide eyed. “Just don’t.” 

His voice sounded so… Broken. It made Reuben want to reach out, give comfort, but his gut hurt too much for him to even stand. 

“When that man broke the other Traci, I knew I was next.” The Traci moved into Connor’s line of view, the thunder clapping around them. “I was so scared. I begged him to stop but he wouldn’t. So I put my hands around his throat and squeezed until he stopped moving. I didn’t mean to kill him. I just wanted to stay alive… Get back to the one I love… I wanted her to hold me in her arms again, make me forget about the humans.” 

Reuben sat up, moving one around his waist while using the other to get him to his feet. At the sound of his wince, Connor rushed to his side, sweeping a hand around his back and the other holding onto his forearm around his waist. 

“Isn’t that what you want to do?” The Traci asked and Connor looked up, his brows furrowing. He glanced Reuben’s way and for a brief second he thought… no. 

“I… I don’t know.” 

Footsteps in the snow behind them alerted Connor to the appearance of Hank. Unknown to them, he had been watching since Connor was first tackled to the ground outside the shutters. 

“Let’s go.” The deviant whispered to her partner, taking her hand once more. They clambered over the wire mesh, dropping onto the pavement below and disappearing down the street. Reuben and Connor stayed in a stunned silence for a moment. 

“Can you stand on your own?” The android whispered and Reuben nodded, only glancing at his companion. His entire body ached but the idea of Connor physically helping him back into the club felt too degrading. He needed to do it on his own. 

At the corner of his vision, Hank appeared beside him. He looked almost… Pleased.

“I think it’s probably better this way.” Hank confirmed, looking towards Connor’s still flickering yellow light. He turned, leaving Connor and Reuben to walk back to the club on their own. 

***

The car ride was silent as Hank drove Reuben to his temporary residency. None of them had spoken about what had happened in the club, it didn’t seem like any of them wanted to. Reuben didn’t want to confront Connor about throwing away the mission because of him, Connor didn’t want to confront Reuben about rushing to his side and Hank? Hank wanted a fucking drink. He wanted to understand what he saw. 

He pulled up outside a small bungalow and Reuben moved to exit. “Hold on, buddy, I’m coming in with ya.” 

“I don’t need your he…”

“Shut the fuck up, please.” Hank snapped, interrupting Reuben before he’d even managed to finish. Hank was a man on a mission. He was pissed, but there was something more to it, he was exhausted with everything. He knew then that there was no point in arguing, there was no point in building up the pretences anymore. They all knew he was broken. 

He had failed. 

Hank stepped out of the car, allowing Reuben a moment to sigh before he too exited. The older man watched as Reuben walked away from him, unlocking the door and slipping inside. He dropped his rucksack by the door, breathing in the smell of fresh linen and air freshener. Fowler had been over, he thought to himself, cleaned the place before he came. It was unfurnished, with only an armchair sitting lonely in the corner of the living room, but Reuben didn’t mind. As long as there was electricity and a bed to sleep in, he wasn’t going to complain. Hank followed slowly behind, Connor close on his heels. The android closed the door behind him. 

The air was thick with tension. Reuben was in the middle of the living room when he turned to see Hank and Connor walk in. All the blinds were closed when they arrived. They were alone, in private. 

“Take that stupid jumper off” Hank ordered, leaning on the wall with his arms folded. 

“Excuse me?” Reuben yelped. 

“You heard what I fucking said.” Hank’s voice rose, louder until Reuben took a physical step back into the centre of the room. “You’re hurt, I wanna see if we need to go to the fuckin’ ER or not.” 

“I’m fine.”

“And I don’t trust your opinion.” The venom in Hank’s voice made him flinch. He looked towards Connor for support but he too seemed to agree with the Lieutenant. 

He knew, he knew and Reuben felt tears welling up in his eyes at the prospect. Fuck. It was humiliating and liberating all at the same time but Reuben didn’t know which emotion was winning that particular battle. He wanted to let them in, he wanted so badly to be… not who he was. Part of him wished that Hank didn’t care enough to bother with his injuries, that he was just some depressed drunk that only cared about his next pint; he wished that Connor was a machine, not looking at him with so much sorrow and pain that it broke Reuben’s heart just thinking about it. He moved his gaze towards Connor again, who was standing motionless at the other side of the room. Just as he had predicted, Connor was already looking at him, his LED light continuing to swirl yellow. Reuben held that contact, taking a deep breath, before pulling the turtle neck up by the collar and over his head, dropping it to the floor. 

“Jesus…” He heard Hank say under his breath. 

His neck was adorned with petechiae marks, blotches of deep red raised skin where David had twisted his hands to get a better grip. Purpling, puce fingerprints decorated both sides of his jugular, and he winced as he turned his head to the side in order to show them to his audience. Moving down his chest, there was a black mark reaching from his collarbone to over his right pec, and scattering bruises over his right side, the most prominent being a large purple bruise the size of a fist under just under his ribcage. There was barely any clear skin on his left side. Scratch marks, bruises, petechiae, fingerprints, everything. Just… Everything. His chest was a mosaic of torment that Connor couldn’t bare to look at. 

“He did this to you?” Hank asked.

Reuben bit the inside of his cheek, wishing he could puncture it with his canine, at least then it would be a distraction from their prying eyes. He looked towards the ground. “Yeah… Yeah he did. I don’t think the deviants helped much.” 

“Fucking christ.” Hank spat out harsh enough that Reuben flinched. 

Connor stepped forward then, reaching down to pick up the jumper from where Reuben had dropped it to the floor, and handed it back towards its owner. His mind whirled, seeing the after effects of violence not just on someone he didn’t know, a stranger, a deviant but… A brilliant, intelligent member of the Detroit Police. Selfishly, Connor wished it happened to someone else, just so he didn’t have to see the bruises every time he closed his eyes. 

“Yeah… It’s shit but I guess I’ll be fine.” Reuben stammered as a response, trying despite the evidence to downplay what they had just seen. He gave a half-hearted smile and Connor felt a splinter dig into his chest, slowly but surely cracking his heart in two. The psychologist pulled the jumper over his head. “It was only when he was drunk, which is a-a lot. I thought… I thought that’s what love was, I thought love was meant to be worth the pain.” 

“Kid, if someone loves you, they don’t hurt you on purpose. Or beat the shit outta you.” 

Reuben let out a nervous laugh. “Yeah… When he, uh, did this.” He pointed to his neck. “I’m not dumb. I know the statistics, I knew that… Uh… He was gonna kill me.” Reuben’s voice broke, taking his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“Prospect of death can be a real wake up call.” Hank muttered, moving a palm to his neck. “I’m sorry.” 

The psychologist wiped his nose on his jumper sleeve, smiling towards Hank. 

“No, it’s okay… Thanks for caring.” 

“If I hear you went back to him, I’ll kill you myself, got it?” Hank warned, and Reuben couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled its way up his throat, a few tears making their way down his cheeks. “I’m serious.” 

Connor stepped towards him, touching his wrist just as he did in the interrogation room. “I will stay with you, I don’t sleep so if he finds this address I can be on guard.” 

“Seriously, that isn’t necessary.” 

“And there's always a place with me.” Hank added. “I mean, there’s a shitty sofa and a slobbery dog that won’t leave you alone but… It’s better than that place.” 

Reuben sniffed. God. When did he become such a crybaby?! Was this what having friends was like? He remembered vaguely the feeling of being cared for, but that was years ago, long enough for the feeling to still be foriegn to him. 

“I’m gonna have to tell my friend, River, where I am… River Mongomery, she has a bit of a following.” 

“I have sent her a direct message on all social media outlets telling her your address and coordinates,” Connor started, and Reuben looked at him with a wide eyed stare, worry crossing his features. “However I did sign it myself, Connor RK800.” 

“Uh… Thanks, Connor.” Reuben blinked a few times, then glanced to Hank, who just shrugged at him. 

“Right. I’m gonna leave you to it, Sumo is probably whining about not getting walked tonight.” 

“You should probably go too, Connor,” He suggested, bringing a hand to tap on his bicep. “Thanks for the offer but… I need to be alone tonight.” 

“I will be here when you need me.” 

The android left soon after Hank. Reuben watched them until they got to the car, started it, and drove off into the distance. 

Finally, he was alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you got to the end I'm proud of you! I didn't expect it to be that long! Thank you so much <3 Next chapter is gonna be a nicer filler chap.


	7. The Calm Before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A moment of relaxation and fluff before Public Enemy! Here we meet River Montgomery and a few other people from Reuben's life. It's also another long chapter because I don't seem to realise how long it is while I'm writing... 
> 
> Enjoy~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: British English, swearing, potentially OOC characterisations, Connor taking a day off, River trying to play subtle matchmaker, the word 'sweetheart'

Hank had told him to wait in the car. But thankfully for him, Connor had gotten used to not listening to the Lieutenant. 

Connor had been the one to drive them back from Dr Kravtsova’s temporary apartment and neither of them had said a word. Idly he wondered whether they were both thinking the same thing: thinking how absolutely  _ fucked _ this night had been, how borderline traumatic it had become over the course of a few hours. On the way to the riverside, Hank had told Connor to pull over at some off-licence store at the corner of a dark street. He was only gone a few minutes but he reappeared with what seemed to be a six pack of cheap beer and an even more sour mood than when he initially got out of the car. 

Which led them to this; Connor sitting inside of the car, listening to the same loud thrashing music that Hank liked, while Hank sat on the edge of a bench near the riverside, looking out over the other side of snowy Detroit. 

Connor pushed open the car door, his sights set on his co-worker. At this point, maybe Connor would even consider him a friend. The playground that surrounded the bench was empty, having been abandoned hours ago even by the tear-away teens that wandered the streets. The two of them were completely alone, though that didn’t offer Connor any comfort. 

“Nice view, huh?” Hank drawled when Connor got close enough to stand adjacent to him. The view  _ was _ nice, showing the more pretty side of Detroit in the winter. “I used to come here a lot before…” 

The Lieutenant didn’t complete his sentence as he was already taking another swig from the bottle. 

The statement confused Connor. “Before what?” 

“Huh?” 

“You said ‘I used to come here a lot before’... Before what?” 

“Before…” Hank’s expression looked pained as if he was remembering something, but Hank quickly dismissed whatever emotion that pooled in his gut. “Before nothing. This place is fucked, Connor, I mean… What the fuck did we see tonight?” 

Connor tilted his head to the side, turning on his heels to face his colleague. “I don’t understand what you mean, Lieutenant.” 

“Oh come off it. The Eden Club, the…” Hank swallowed another mouthful of beer. “That poor kid beaten to bits, how long does it have to go on for to get like that, huh? He’s meant to be the fucking psychologist, not the victim, he’s meant to help people like that not be one himself… How can someone say they love someone and then do that to them, huh? It’s fucking sick.” 

Connor raised his arms to tuck his hands under his shoulders, keeping them protected against the harsh cold of the night. He’d rather be talking about anything else other than this. He didn’t want to be reminded of the bruises so dark they seemed black, or the strength it could have taken to create such marks on the psychologist's neck, he  _ hated _ the thought of it, the sight of it. 

“Why are you so determined to kill yourself?” The android asked, moving his arms so that he was now gripping his biceps. His voice teetered off into a whisper, getting lost in the wind. 

“Some things I just can’t forget. Whatever I do they’re always there… Eating away at me.” Hank let out a sigh and Connor took a daring step forward, sympathy flickering across his features. “I don’t have the guts to pull the trigger so I kill myself a little every day. That’s probably difficult for you to understand, huh Connor? Nothing very rational about it.” 

The Lieutenant took another swig and Connor looked out towards the bridge. In his chest, his heart felt a little heavier, his breath a little shallower. He hated that it made sense, more sense than he wished to admit, but he still could shake the small remnants of feeling from his processing. He stepped forward, moving so that he was a few metres in front of the Lieutenant, facing outwards towards the river. 

“We’re not making any progress in this investigation. The deviants have nothing in common. They’re all different models, produced at different times,” Connor folded his hands across his chest again. “In different places.” 

“Well there must be some link.” 

The android thought for a moment. Trauma? Shock? No, there was something deeper at hand. 

.

“What they have in common is this obsession with rA9. It’s almost like some kind of… Myth. Something they invented that wasn’t a part of their original program.” 

“Androids believing in God,” Hank let out a small hmph, pressing the bottle to his lips once more. “Fuck, what’s this world coming to.” 

“You seem preoccupied, Lieutenant.” He commented as he turned to face his colleague. “Is it something to do with what happened back at The Eden Club?” 

“Those two girls, they just wanted to be together. They really seemed… In love. They protected each other.” 

“You seem troubled, Lieutenant, I didn’t think machines could have such an effect on you.” It was a comment that was meant to be in jest, but as soon as the words left his lips, Connor knew he had made a misjudgement. Hank moved so that he was standing in front of the bench, placing the bottle down on the metal rails. 

“What about you, Connor?” Hank’s gaze felt like icicles piercing into his skin, hard and cold and not at all friendly. He took a few steps as he spoke. “I saw what you did. You look human, you sound human but what are you really?” 

“I’m whatever you and Dr Kravtsova want me to be, Lieutenant. Your partner, your buddy to drink with, or just a machine designed to accomplish a task.” 

“You coulda shot those two girls but you didn’t.” The Lieutenant stepped closer, taking his hand to shove against Connor’s shoulder, causing him to stumble backwards. “Why didn’t you shoot, Connor? Admit it. Some scruple enter your program? Go on. Say it. I saw it.” 

“No!” Something akin to adrenaline moved through Connor’s body, making him hyper aware of every move that Hank made. He knew the reason, the  _ truth _ , they both did. “I just, I just decided not to shoot, that’s all. I couldn’t... ” 

Hank reached back, taking his pistol out of his pocket. The silver metal glistened in the moonlight, reflecting off of the snow causing it to shine. The adrenaline returned and Connor had to fight a foreign instinct to step back, to push himself into the railings and further away from the gun barrel pointed at his forehead. 

“But are you afraid to die, Connor?” 

A simple question. But with such a complex answer. He knew it deep down, that deep within his programming there was a stirring of  _ fear _ that refused to be ignored. 

“I would certainly find it regrettable to be… Interrupted before I can finish this investigation.” 

The pistol didn’t waver. 

“What would happen if I pulled this trigger, hm? Nothing? Oblivion? Android heaven?” At that last question, the corner of his lip tugged into a smirk, but it did nothing to calm the android. 

“I doubt there is a heaven for androids.” Was his only reply. 

“Having existential doubts, Connor? Sure you’re not going deviant too?” 

“I self test regularly, I know what I am, and what I am not.” They both knew it was a cop-out answer but it had the desired effect. Hank’s hand trembled for a moment before he finally relented, backing off towards the bench. “Where are you going?” 

“To get drunker!” Hank shouted. “I need to think.” 

***

Waking up in a house that wasn’t your own was oddly comforting. At least, it was for Reuben Kravtsova. There was no fear, no slamming doors, no grumbling hungover voice behind him telling him to fetch him a coffee before he did something he’d regret. There wasn’t even any smell of booze that had seeped into the walls, or pieces of vase or ornament to pick up after a night of madness. 

As he blinked his eyes open, there was a moment he thought he might just be in heaven. 

He reached out, pulling his rucksack to the edge of the bed. It was still packed almost to the brim. After Connor and Hank left, he had unpacked a few things. His favourite mug was now sitting on the counter top in the kitchen right next to the kettle that Fowler had provided; its detailing of a small cartoon T-Rex holding its own cup of coffee was frayed and lightly scratched - well loved, as Reuben would put it. A few sentimental ornaments; a snow-globe that had been gifted by River from her trip to Disneyland was on the windowsill, Goofy and Donald waving happily from behind the glass; a porcelain clown figurine that he had found as a child at some thrift store; a desk tag that had "DR. KRAVTSOVA" engraved into the silver plate, a gift from his father when completing his PhD. Laying on the other pillow in the bed was a worn out, one eyed dinosaur plush that he'd had since he was a toddler. David never saw Benny, Reuben could say with almost certainty that David didn't even know Benny existed. He was something that Reuben did his best to hide, in fear that one day David might fly into a rage so violent that he would destroy him. Reuben reached over, tapping Benny on the head a few times. 

He didn’t need to worry about Benny anymore. 

Reuben pulled on a rogue t-shirt from his bag as he got out of the bed, leaving his bottom half only clad in boxer briefs. His ribs ached from the altercation with the deviants last night. It’s dull throb inched its way up his chest, coaxing the pain from his muscles. He walked to the kitchen to fill the kettle with water, getting his morning coffee ready in order to start the day, something that he so desperately needed to get him out of his sleepy haze. Thankfully for Reuben though he didn’t wait very long for his coffee to arrive to him. 

A knock on the door startled him to it’s arrival. 

Fear gripped him, tensing his body for a split second as he turned to face the door. He leaned over the countertop, pushing away the blinds from the kitchen window to peer into the outside, searching for the figure. But as soon as he did, a smiling, giggling face popped into his view, holding two large Starbucks cups. 

“Surprise!!!!” River squealed, muffled through the glass. “Open the door, Rue! It’s freezing out here!”

As quickly as he possibly could, Reuben rushed to the door, taking it off the latch and clicking open the Yale lock. It reminded him that he was seriously going to have to up the security on this place. A cold gush of air greeted him to the outside and River rushed herself into the warmth, placing the two take away cups on the counter before ridding herself of her woolen hat and gloves. 

“How did you even get here?!” Reuben laughed, immediately bringing his friend into a hug. Their first hug in almost two years, but Reuben had the feeling that River never blamed him for it, she wasn’t that type. 

“Connor told me, sent me a message last night.” She giggled. “Jesus, Rue, choking not breathing!” 

_ Oh yeah _ . Realisation dawned on Reuben’s face. Connor  _ did _ message River last night. A forgotten moment in the madness that was yesterday. “Sorry!” He said as he released her. 

“Now, you better still like salted caramel lattes because if ya don’t I think I might just lose the will to live.” She laughed, picking up one of the take away cups and passing it over to her friend. It was only then that she noticed the perachiae on his neck and the fingerprint bruises across the sides. It looked…  _ Awful _ . She reached forward, fingertips lingering in front of his chest. “Jesus, Reuben…” 

“What?” Reuben, clueless for a moment, looking down at his latte. “It tastes the same as always, there’s nothing to worry about! Salted caramel is still my go-to.” 

“No, Reuben, I was saying Jesus to  _ them _ .” She pointed but didn’t dare touch. It looked painful and the last thing she wanted was to put him in any more pain. Reuben continued to look puzzled. It took him another few seconds for his memory to flash back… Ah…  _ Them _ . The consequences for his sins. River dropped her hand as soon as the realisation dawned on his face. “I’m so happy you’re out, Rue, I am so  _ so _ proud of you.” 

“Even though I abandoned you for two years?” Reuben let a small laugh escape his lips, moving his hand towards his nape. Thankfully it didn’t hurt as much on the back of his neck, so he could touch that part relatively freely without any ache. His friend gave him a sympathetic look, taking a sip of her own cup. It smelled like green tea.

“If I genuinely thought you abandoned me I wouldn’t be here.” River sighed, leaning her back against the countertop. The tea warmed her hands nicely. “You’re my bestie, remember? We stick together.” 

“Thanks, River.” 

“We also get you some furniture because  _ oh boy _ .” She looked around the kitchenette area and the adjoining living room. “You have no sofa, no TV, not even a microwave! And a plastic kettle? Rue I’m not leaving you like this! No ifs, no buts, we are doing my favourite thing!” 

“Starting a revolution?” Reuben joked, a grin cracking across his features. 

“You joke about that, but it’s coming, Androids will get equal rights one day but we have to fight for it.” She said seriously, then a smile cracked across her face. “I actually meant shopping. Get ready, I’m going to book the car for 15 minutes, chop chop!” 

Almost flinging the take away cup into the air, River plucked it from his hands as he rushed towards the bedroom again. He pulled on the cream turtle neck he had taken with him and the jeans that he was wearing the night before, along with fresh socks and slipping on his work shoes - not very good for the current Detroit weather but it would do until he could, eventually, grab the rest of his stuff from the apartment. Next, he grabbed the hairspray. The mirror told him that no amount of hairspray would tame the mess that was his hair but, as always, Reuben neglected that warning. Bed head was always one of his best looks. 

With ten minutes to go, Reuben walked out of the bedroom, running a hand through his hair in order to fluff it up a bit considering the hairspray. River was still leaning against the countertop, tea in one hand while scrolling through her phone in the other, smiling at something that he presumed came across her social media feed. 

“See you hit 27 million subscribers a few days ago.” Reuben mentioned absentmindedly and River glanced up from her phone, flashing a grin at him. “Mental.” 

“I know!” She sighed, resting her phone down on the countertop. “It doesn’t feel real, I still love it though, it’s just insane that so many people actually enjoy my content.” 

Her friend hummed, taking his coffee from beside her on the counter. He took a long sip, the caramel coating his throat deliciously. It almost tasted better when he was with River - it tasted like the nostalgia; hours spent chatting in Starbucks with no care for anything else; hiding McNuggets from the baristas so that they wouldn’t be kicked out; gossiping about boys; work; having existential crises about the meaning of life; discussing the future. It felt like it was yesterday and a decade ago at the same time. But ultimately it had been neither. 

“That’s what happens when you play games for a living and scream.” Reuben laughed. 

“You should collab with me at some point! Especially with the whole rumours of deviants. Of course I will only put down your second name and we can blur your face if you want.” 

“River…” Reuben laughed, though his tone gave a warning. “I need to lay low for a while, you know that. Until this David thing blows over I need to keep a low profile, though my job isn’t  _ exactly _ making that easy at the moment.”

“Yeah… I have a few friends who work with Cyberlife, supposedly the RK800 model has been purposefully made to try and track down deviant androids. He’s meant to still be in the development stages but they pushed it forward.” River raised a brow. “Are the DPD trying to apprehend deviants?” 

Reuben ran a hand through his hair. He wondered if her parents knew that she would have an affinity for asking long streams of difficult questions that Reuben  _ knew _ he couldn’t answer, making her name quite apt in the grand scheme of things.

“Even if I wanted to answer that, you know I couldn’t.” He started, taking yet another large sip of coffee. “All you can know is that I’m working with Connor and Hank on a case, highly unusual to bring a psychologist directly in but, hey, gets me out of the office.” 

River smirked. It made him feel like she knew something he didn’t. Thankfully for him, however, a short beep of River’s phone alerted them to the fact that the taxi was outside. She jolted forward, snatching her phone from its place next to the kettle and letting out a small squeal. 

“C’mon Rue, lets go! Quick!” She grabbed his hand, moving both of their cups onto the countertop, before dragging him towards the door. In the rush, he quickly grabbed the set of keys and his wallet, pulling River back slightly in order to reach them. “I’ve got a surprise waiting for you when we get to the centre!” 

***

Peering out into the crowds of central Detroit, Reuben was hit with a rush of nostalgia. It had been years, quite literally, since he had been here for anything other than a quick walk past - and when he had been here for shopping, David was glued to his side, and they were there very much for  _ him _ and not for Reuben. Today was going to be good, he could feel it in his bones, causing phantom warmth to radiate through him despite the freezing temperatures outside. Which reminded him, he really needed a jacket. Somehow he hadn’t thought to pick one up when packing up to leave David’s. 

In the seat opposite him River was almost shaking with excitement. 

“Okay, so what’s this surprise?” Reuben finally asked, the taxi coming to a stop at traffic lights adjacent to the taxi rank. 

“You’ll see!” 

She had that glint in her eyes that meant trouble, Reuben could recognise it anywhere. But he pushed that to the back of his mind as they turned the corner, pulling into the taxi rank. The pavement was flooded with people getting in and out of taxis; waiting to cross the road; dropping off and picking up androids; rushing in and out of shops. Normal bustling Detroit getting ready for Christmas. As soon as Halloween was over, the shops and streets were lined with winter decorations, Christmas songs were being played on blast on the overhead speakers, and people were doing their Christmas shopping. Today was no different. Aside from Reuben and River being there of course. 

River stepped outside first, her shoes crunching on the light snow covering the ground. The cold air made Reuben's cheeks flush as he stepped out, following River onto the pavement outside of the main centre. She seemed to be looking around for something and in response Reuben quirked a brow. 

"What are you doing?" 

“Oh!” Reuben’s question caught her off guard, snapping her head around to face her friend. “Nothing! Just being prepared, y’know?” 

_ Ah _ . The psychologist assumed that it was to do with David, watching out for him or any of his so-called ‘friends’ that would report back to him about his appearance. Smart move, if it was actually true. She grinned towards him, grabbing him by the arm and intertwining her own through the crook of his elbow. They walked then towards the entrance of the shopping centre. 

It had only been built a few years previously, filled to the brim with a mixture of new and old brands that had survived the passage of time. Reuben had never been in this particular centre, not out of any choice of his own, Reuben would have loved to have explored the new centre when it was unveiled. But it seemed that life didn’t want him entering until this very moment. The Cyberlife store was just outside the main entrance, androids standing at the window displays looking expressionless, completely motionless and…  _ Empty. _ They didn’t look  _ alive _ , not like Connor looked alive, or even like any of the random androids that were wandering the streets with their families. He supposed it was because they hadn’t been activated yet but it still caused an uncomfortable stir in his gut. 

“So! First things first!” River exclaimed, squeezing her arm to bring Reuben closer. She looked up at him with a grin so bright that Reuben was sure that the light reflected off of her mouth. How someone could be so permanently happy was beyond him, and he hoped one day he could feel happiness on the same level as her, even a fraction of her joy would be a welcome change. “We have clothes shopping to do, furniture shopping, and you  _ are _ going to Lush no matter what because you need a bath bomb and I’m not taking no for an answer.” 

Her words came out as a garbled rush that Reuben could barely hear over the hum of a typical Friday morning but he got the general just of what she was saying. He needed a new wardrobe, new knick-knacks, and to relax. Three things that Dr Reid had been telling him for  _ years _ . He was pretty sure that she would have dragged him shopping herself if that was even allowed without it being a conflict of interest. 

His ribs twinged as they turned into the first shop, reminding him of the punches that the Eden Club girls had administered to him the night before. Part of him wondered if he would see them again, wandering about Detroit masquerading as a human couple, or whether they would be already on their way to places like Canada where Androids had already been accepted as a new form of human life. Either way, Reuben wished them the best. It wasn’t too long ago that people like Reuben had been seen as sub-human, second class citizens anyway. He felt he would be a hypocrite if he thought otherwise. 

“Upstairs is the mens section.” River mentioned idly, pulling him through the aisles of women’s jumpers and blouses. “You’re allowed  _ one _ turtle neck, but that’s only until the… The… Stuff heals, then its back to shirts and t-shirts for you!” 

Neither of them wanted to acknowledge the marks of abuse, that was something that was obvious, but today wasn’t the day for that. No. Reuben wasn’t going to dwell. He would stay firmly in the present, thank you very much. 

“I’m allowed normal jumpers, right?” Reuben asked as they moved onto the elevator, slowing moving upwards to the men’s section. River laughed beside him, giving him a gentle tap on the shoulder. 

“Of course!” 

As soon as they got to the top, River made a bee-line towards what appeared to be a large selection of jumpers and hooded tops. For the first time in years, he was surrounded by colours and patterns and designs that he  _ really _ didn’t think should be on any sort of clothing. He brushed his hand over a woolen knitted jumper. It idly reminded him of the jumpers that Gerald used to wear while clearing the snow off the streets driveways. He wondered whether he’d be doing that this year, he didn’t trust David not to tell the poor boy to ‘fuck off’ this year. Reuben hoped he’d be back in  _ his _ apartment before that happened, however. 

He moved towards a flash of colour in his peripheral. It was a burgundy hoodie, soft looking and detailed with mustard coloured stitching across the seams and across the front. It had ‘DETROIT’ written in block capitals, embroidered in mustard coloured thread that matched the seams, with perfectly straight lines across the top and bottom of the word. He reached up to pluck one of the hoodies from the rack, managing to get a size small on his first try, and gently touched the shoulder of it. It was so much softer than what he initially thought. Reuben was immediately in love. He turned towards River, who was carrying around 7 items on her arms, looking absolutely comical as she stumbled her away towards Reuben with arms outstretched. 

“Ooo that’s so cute! It’s changing room time! I decided to pick a few things out for you that I think will look good.” 

Reuben fondly rolled his eyes, taking a few items from her to relieve her arms of the pressure, and made his way towards the men’s changing rooms. The android at the front smiled at them, it looked the same as all of the other android workers in the store, to the point where Reuben would have trouble telling them apart. 

“How many items would you like to take into the changing rooms, sir?” The android was polite, turning himself ever-so-slightly towards the rack of numbered tags. It was only a commodity really. Something no one paid that much attention to in the grand scheme of things. Reuben idly counted the coathangers resting on his hand and up his wrist in order to give a response. 

“Uh… Seven.” Reuben nodded and the android offered him a large green tag with the number 7 printed boldly on both sides in large black ink. “Can my friend come in with me? Just to give advice?” 

The android nodded in approval, and the two friends offered him a quiet thanks as they moved into the corridor and around the bend in order to reach the main hall of changing rooms. The changing rooms were surprisingly empty, leaving them with the full corridor of changing rooms to pick from. Going with his subconscious instinct, Reuben picked the one right at the very end, stuck between another stall and the wall. It allowed for River to sit comfortably in the corner without getting in anyone’s way - if anyone else bothered to try on clothes before buying them, that is. 

Reuben pulled the stall curtain closed, placing the numerous items of clothing over the hook holders. He peeled off the turtle neck, avoiding his image in the mirror as he did. 

“So… Anything major happen in the last few years?” Reuben asked. The first item available to him was a long sleeved t-shirt in a baseball style, with grey outlining the collar and the sleeves while a nice navy blue colour in the front and back. It wouldn’t be something that he necessarily would pick up, mainly due to its slightly lower cut across his collarbone, but still, he would try it. 

“Nah.” River shrugged from outside. “Apart from the channel kicking off, not much honestly.” 

“No partners?” Her laughter made him involuntarily smile. He pulled the t-shirt on, looking at himself in the mirror. It was… Nice. It was soft and comfortable, he couldn’t really ask for more in a t-shirt. Reuben moved the curtain back so that he could show River and she let out a small wolf-whistle, allowing a pink blush to decorate his cheeks. 

“Lookin’ good! I love the length on your arms, it really makes your shoulders pop!” Reuben rolled his eyes as he moved back behind the curtain. Well. That t-shirt was going into the  _ definitely _ pile. “And you know me, I’m married to my work, I don’t need anyone.” 

“But do you  _ want _ anyone?” The smirk could be heard in his voice and River let out a huff. 

“Not really. I think I’m just kinda happy on my own, y’know?” 

He let out a hum of approval as he switched to the next item of clothing. This time it was his pick, the burgundy hoodie that he knew he was going to adore no matter what it looked like on him. “Taa-daa, what do you think?” Reuben said as he pulled back the curtain, putting his hands on his hips to pose in front of his one-woman audience. 

“I love it. Adore it. Let me snap a pic.” The picture was taken before Reuben had any time to comment. He didn’t mind it though, secretly he enjoyed it. “Done. Gonna send that to you ASAP. It’s definitely cute, Rue.” 

“Thank you. It’s so soft, like, I want one in every colour.” 

River giggled. “Honestly, dude, go do it. I can’t judge. I think I wear the same four things whenever I make a video. It’s almost like a little uniform!” 

“Got anything big planned with the channel?” 

“Going to do a charity stream in a month with a few other channels, I’m planning on playing through the new Elder Scrolls for 24 hours.” River tapped away at her phone as she spoke, waiting for Reuben to reveal himself in the next t-shirt. “I’m so excited for it. I’ve been waiting  _ months _ to play it, but I promised myself I wouldn’t start playing it until the livestream.” 

“What’s that one again?” Reuben asked.

“Elder Scrolls 6.” 

“Ah.” Reuben nodded, recognising the title now. The game that took around two decades to actually be released, he remembered playing Skyrim on his shitty PC as a teenager… Such a simpler time. “I don’t think this shirt fits me, River, I’m just going to try on the last one, then we can grab some jeans because mine are…  _ Holey _ .” 

“Please tell me you at least have sewn them up?” 

Reuben popped his head out of the curtain, looking positively  _ insulted _ . “Right I might have holes in my jeans but I’m not some sort of gremlin! I don’t just wander about with my boxer’s showing!” 

River raised her brows and blinked slowly at him. A smirk threatened to creep its way up her face but she managed to keep it contained long enough that Reuben huffed and pulled back behind the curtain. That was a close call. 

Idly Reuben heard footsteps click on the tile floor outside, getting closer towards their stall. Probably another customer with bags of clothing getting ready to spend the next half an hour sorting out their new wardrobe, either that or a guy forced into the changing rooms by a nagging partner who doesn’t want to go to the effort of sending back ill-fitting clothes. Around a 50/50 possibility for each, he thought. 

He tugged on the last item. It looked like it would be tight, and Reuben was like 99.9% sure that it was barely going to fit over his head, but somehow it fit perfectly. Muscle fit around the chest and arms, and if he was any younger he’d be self conscious of the attention it brought to his chest, but if anything it made him look more… Masculine, and Reuben definitely didn’t see a problem with that. Around the elbow joint there was a strip of black in the fabric, contrasting beautifully with the pure white of the initial fabric. It was bunched at the sleeves and across his torso. The inside of the hoodie was a pitch black. 

He looked…  _ Good _ , actually, really good. He admired himself in the mirror for a moment before throwing the curtain back. 

“You made a good choice with this one, River, seriously, I feel great. It makes my chest look, well, like-” Reuben looked up then, flickering up at the two figures in front of him. He had to do a double take, comically moving his head back and forth. “W-What is he doing here?!” 

River had a mischievous glint in her eye that Reuben  _ hated _ . He looked towards Connor, who was standing perfectly still with his arms at his sides, watching as Connor’s eyes flickered down his body and then back up again. There was something in the look that made his face flush red. 

“I invited him, Rue.” River said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“The hoodie suits you, Reuben,” Connor’s voice felt like silk. “It makes your stature more angular.” 

Reuben didn’t know whether to take that as a compliment or not. But River grinned, throwing a thumbs up in his direction, which gave him all the answers he needed. 

“Uh… Thanks, Connor.” Reuben nodded as he slipped back into the changing room stall, ridding himself of the hoodie over his torso. “Did you get the day off work or something?” He called out to the android, who was standing peacefully next to River. 

“Lieutenant Anderson encouraged me to take River up on her offer, he will let me know if either of us are needed at the station.” Connor answered, listening out for Reuben’s response. The only response he got was a low hum of approval. It seemed that his answer was suitable for the psychologist. 

“I’m needing to grab a few new sets of jeans, then we can head to wherever is next.” Reuben told them both. He pulled back the curtain again, now in his usual cream turtleneck, holding the small mountain of clothes in one hand. Connor immediately stepped forward, taking the ‘keep’ pile out of his hands and transferring them to his own. “Oh, you don’t have to.” 

“It’s fine. I enjoy being useful.” Connor winked and River had to stop herself letting out an audible squeal. 

This woman was on a mission. No one was going to stop her now. 

“Well you can’t argue with that, Rue.” River hopped forward, hooking her arm with Reuben’s yet again. She watched as the blush crawled up his jaw and across his cheekbones. Watching the two interact was almost like watching a car crash in slow motion, so bad she could barely look away. “Right.  _ You _ go over and look at the jeans, the pyjama section is calling my name so I will be over there trying to bury myself in fluffy Christmas sets.” 

“I…” And she was off, Reuben was half tempted to change her name in his phone to Penelope Pitstop at the rate she was going at. Or maybe Speedy Gonzales would be better? Either way, Reuben was left to hand the ill-fitting t-shirts and the number tag over to the store android, who took them gratefully, and then wander about the denim section with Connor hot on his heels. 

“Have you known each other long?” The enquiry came not long after River had left them. Over the top of the racks of jeans and other miscellaneous items, Reuben could see her heading bobbing in between the aisles, picking up pyjama sets only to coo at their cuteness and set them down again. It was mostly Disney memorabilia, cutesy characters like Stitch or Bambi embroidered onto plush lounge bottoms and jumpers. The types of things that Reuben wished he was able to buy without a hint of shame or worry about how he would be perceived. 

He picked up a pair of jet black jeans, ripped at the knees in a boyish fashion. The only worry he had about them was the length of the leg, but that was something that could be easily fixed with a few well placed tucks. 

"Known her since high school." Reuben admitted, draping the jeans over his arm. He picked up another in a dark grey colour in the same style. "She fell down a couple steps, scratched her arm pretty bad, I forced her to get some antiseptic and plasters, and have been friends ever since."

Connor let out a curt hum. He could see that scenario in his mind. River being too stubborn to accept help, and Reuben having just the right amount of care to coax her out of that instinct. 

It seemed to Connor that Reuben's empathetic nature had existed long before the man ever thought of becoming a psychologist. 

"She cares about you a lot, her messages to me made that very clear." 

"Oh yeah?" Reuben asked, turning to face his companion. "She was probably the first to." 

"But she won't be the last."

Reuben cleared his throat, the honesty taking him aback slightly. For someone who was an expert in dealing with others emotions, when it came to his own he didn't quite know how to handle them. Humans having emotions when they shouldn't could be explained away at the drop of a hat, it was natural, but the emotion that the android was now exuding felt… Real… And that was something that Reuben had less of a chance to explain. 

"I don't want to bring up work but I have to ask…" 

"Oh my goodness!“ An Australian twang erupted from beside them, causing Reuben to snap his head around. "Is that you, Reuben?" 

Connor raised a brow, inspecting the woman who was turning into the same aisle as them. She was elderly, Connor wanted to say that she was going into her 70s, but still sprightly enough to navigate without any sort of walking aid. Beside her was a tall, slender looking young man. He was wearing what appeared to be a hand-knitted jumper with small yellow and pink flowers dotted about randomly, fitting perfectly on his frame, and was carrying an old rucksack over one shoulder, the slightly undone zipper revealing a bright cobalt coloured yarn within. 

"S-Sheila!" Reuben exclaimed and the woman pulled the psychologist into a hug. Connor and her younger companion looked at each other, Connor wearing a confused expression while the other man was grinning from ear to ear. It was only then that Connor noticed that he too was an android. A PL600 model - the same model as Daniel. "And Gerald!" Coming out of one hug, Reuben was transferred immediately into another, Gerald tapping him ever so gently on the back. 

"Oh my dear boy, we've been so worried, haven't we Gerald?" 

"Yes, Granny." Gerald said as he released Reuben from his grip. Connor noted the yellow swirl of his LED light across his temple, the happiness radiating off of the two individuals like a beacon of light in the darkness. It seemed almost familial to him, almost as if Reuben too was her grandson, and by extension, Connor was about to get the same treatment. 

"I was a week away from bringing out my old dad's shotgun, god rest his soul, I had Gerald get some powder. The stuff my uncle had, god rest his soul, was all wet, wouldn't have a good shot." As Sheila continued, Reuben sent Connor a quick glance, his eyebrows raised. Connor gave a short shrug in response. “He’s technically trespassing, you know? Gerald looked up all them confusing laws that an old bat like me knows nothing about.” 

Reuben  _ giggled, _ boyish and carefree, and Connor felt his heart pick up an extra few beats at the sound. Sheila seemed to notice, because her attention was soon caught on the android. 

“But enough about  _ that _ . Who is this strapping young man? I recognise you from somewhere…” Sheila hummed, putting a finger across her lips. Unfazed by the interaction, Connor smiled, stepping closer to the group as he did. 

“My name is Connor, I work with Dr Kravtsova in police investigations. You might have seen me and Lieutenant Anderson visit the street last week?” His smile only got wider as Sheila made a noise of approval. She definitely remembered him. “Dr Kravtsova invited me shopping with him, so I did.” 

“Oh did he now?” Sheila turned her attention towards Reuben, who rolled his eyes. 

“ _ Please _ do not give her the invitation to gossip, Connor.” Reuben laughed. “I’m already the talk of the street at the best of times.” 

“Only because we care about you, sweetheart.” 

_ Oh _ . That word again. It made Connor’s cheeks flush a blue tinge, mimicking a blush across his cheekbones.  _ No.  _ He wasn’t allowing this. He was a  _ machine _ , he didn’t blush or feel  _ anything _ . It was an issue in his software, something he should bring up to Amanda or notify Cyberlife of in his next report.

But he knew he wouldn’t. It would be his dirty little secret because it felt too good to ruin - an exhilarating shame. 

He looked away from Reuben to find Gerald giving him an encouraging smile. The other android looked… Empathetic… Like he knew what was going on. But how could Gerald feel empathy unless… He was a deviant. Reuben knew a deviant and they were just going to let it go? In his mind's eye, Connor flinched at the reaction from Sheila or Reuben at the prospect of taking Gerald away. Reuben would never forgive him, he was sure of that, they seemed… Close. Perhaps only close through their shared connection of Sheila, but close nonetheless. 

Connor zoned back into the conversation half way through Sheila speaking. 

“... And remember, Christmas dinner is at Andy’s this year. Gaz is making the cranberry sauce, now don’t pull that face, you don’t have to eat it!” Sheila gave Reuben a knock on the arm with the back of her hand in chastisement. “Tom might  _ actually _ help with the clean up this year if you’re there, you were always such a good influence on him.” 

Connor blinked a few times, notably confused, and Reuben turned to him. “Gaz is Ruth’s husband, they live at 31, Andy lives with his grandson Tom at 28, Andy is hosting Christmas this year and Tom is a… Turbulent character.” 

“He’s a growing lad, kids at that age are always a handful.” Sheila interrupted, coming quickly to the young lads defense. A smirk crossed her features. “But that’s no matter. Say, there’s always a space at the table if you want to invite Connor along? I’m sure no one will mind. You’re welcome too, sweetheart!” 

Her invitation extended towards River, who had just approached the small gathering. In her hands were two sets of fluffy pink and red pyjama sets, clearly from the same matching collection, with Mickey and Minnie Mouse characterised on the red and pink respectively. Reuben snapped his head around quickly to meet her gaze, flashing her a blinding grin. 

“Oh, thank you for the offer, but my family do a  _ huge _ party and I think I’d get disowned if I missed it.” She couldn’t help the laughter that escaped her lips as she spoke. “But it would be cute if you and Connor would make it along, right… Gerald, isn’t it?” 

The twinkle in River’s eye had Reuben  _ worried _ . He couldn’t take her anywhere. 

Gerald nodded, sending River a short smile. Jesus _C_ _ hrist _ . 

“ _ Anyway. _ ” Reuben sing-songed, moving so that he was standing between Connor and Sheila. “I’m sure you two have some shopping to do and so do we, but I’ll see you two soon, okay? C’mon, Connor, I need to pay for these and then we can get out of here.” 

River laughed as she waved goodbye to the neighbourly duo, and Connor did his own awkward wave to mimic it. Sheila and Gerald disappeared into the depths of the clothes ranks, chatting between themselves about Christmas, Reuben and their interactions. “Let  _ me _ pay for those,” River protested, plucking the keep pile out of Connor’s hands and placing them on top of the two pjyama sets. “Also, you’re gonna look super cute in this pj yet! I got us matching, you can be Mickey and I will be Minnie, we can drink hot chocolate and have sleepovers and play games and I’m so excited!” As soon as her ramble was finished, she rushed off towards the queue to the till, leaving Connor and Reuben in the metaphorical dust of her speed. 

Connor smiled towards the psychologist, but Reuben seemed to be elsewhere, gazing into the distance with a fogged expression over his features. He wasn’t even aware of Connor’s existence at that point, too busy thinking about something else, anything other than the android next to him. It stung, causing Connor’s smile to falter ever-so-slightly. 

“Where is the next destination, Reuben?” Connor broke the silence. He watched as the psychologist blinked a few times, bringing himself back to reality. 

“Oh! Yeah, uh, probably Lush, they do bath bombs and a lot of smelly stuff.” 

“Do you mind if I accompany you? I don’t want to intrude on your time.” 

Reuben smiled, bright and glowing and Connor had a strange feeling in his chest. It was tight, almost as if something unknown was squeezing his ribs together and clambering its way up his throat to wrap around his windpipe. He couldn’t identify it - part of him didn’t even want to. It was something he was going to have to search into. The strangest thing about it was that there was an odd sense of comfort in the feeling, that Connor wanted to curl himself up in the tightness and lull into a sleep-like state.

“Of course not, it’ll be fun! C’mon, we can meet River at the exit.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! And thank you for the hits and kudos <3 I appreciate them all!


	8. Public Enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello! Please enjoy this next chapter, thank you again for reading <3 My apologies for the google-translated Ukrainian, I added the translations in italics either beside or below the text! I decided to go for the Connor is traumatised route because honestly its the one that makes the most sense for his deviancy, and kick starts the theme for the rest of the story! 
> 
> Enjoy~

It was the 8th November, 4:06pm. Connor blinked open his eyes. He had felt himself drifting off into the Zen Garden before he’d even closed his eyes to make the transfer, shifting from one world into the next, both equally as real and both equally as terrifying. It was sunset in the garden; the trees around him were just beginning to decay and wither with the changing of the seasons; the once pink cherry blossoms had shifted to a darling silver; and the air was humid and bitter, like it had just been raining. 

Amanda was probably desperate to see him. 

The last 24 for hours had been… Confusing for him. New choices, new outcomes, new consequences. Things that he had never truly been programmed to think of before were coming into his peripheral. Suddenly what was once just focus on the mission had become so much  _ more _ ; there were people, friends, opinions, things that he shouldn’t be concerned about but when it came down to the wire… Connor cared about them. All of them. And it was overwhelming. 

The white pearlescent path led him to Amanda, winding through the trees and navigating him to the centre of the Zen Garden. In the corner of his vision he could see Amanda sitting in a small boat just at the edge of the centre, holding a large red umbrella over her shoulder in order to shelter her from the heat and humidity.

“Hello, Connor.” Amanda said, a small ring of excitement to her voice. “I thought you might enjoy a little cruise.” 

Connor turned and made his way down the white steps towards the boat. It was a small wooden rowing boat that Connor was sure he would be the one to man, as Amanda made no move towards either of the oars nor did she loosen her grip on her umbrella. The boat stayed unearthly still as Connor stepped in it, sitting opposite his superior. Amanda looked different today. Her robe that had once been white was now a pitch dark black, with red shimmering through one of the sleeves. He pushed the boat away from its spot, moving them into the middle of the small lake that surrounded the centre of the garden like a moat, and gave one large row to get them moving. 

The silence between them felt as thick as the humid air; utterly suffocating. 

“I love this place…” Amanda started, her eyes anywhere but the android opposite her. “Everything is so calm and peaceful, far from the noise of the world… Tell me, what have you discovered?” 

What to tell her first? Connor had moved so that his forearms were resting on his knees, appearing more relaxed than the thoughts that were running in his mind. The Eden Club… It had changed him, in a way, brought him closer to everyone around him. With Hank, he was pretty sure he would be able to call the grumpy old man a friend at this point but only out of concern than anything else. And Reuben, well, Reuben was a peculiar case that Connor didn’t quite know what to do with yet. 

“My relationship with Lieutenant Anderson is problematic,” Connor let out a sigh, his brow furrowing. “He continues to struggle with psychological issues. I suspect it clouds his judgement regarding deviants.” 

“Nothing matters more than your investigation.” Her tone was scathing. She looked at him up and down as if his very presence was disappointing her. Connor didn’t want to disappoint her, not for anything, he knew rationally that the investigation was the one thing that mattered, that these  _ humans _ didn’t matter. “What’s happening is too important. Don’t let Anderson, or  _ anyone else _ , get in your way.” 

A spark shuddered through his spine, causing him to straighten up and grab hold of the oars yet again. 

Did she know? Did she know about his internal conflict, the sacrifices that he was making? He let the deviants go on the assumption that they wouldn’t hurt Dr Kravtsova, he allowed another deviant to make themselves known to him and he just… Let them leave without mentioning another word of disapproval. He chose to save Hank instead of chasing after a suspect, overriding his own mission to go rogue and complete something of his… Own free will? 

He pushed the thought down, manifesting the strength it took into pushing the oars deep into the water, pulling them forward. 

“You seem lost, Connor.” The concern dripped from her voice like honey, but it didn’t have the same affect on him as it did in the Eden Club. There was no stuttering heartbeat, no urge to look away and hide… It was nothing, even though it was the exact same emotion being expressed. Was it because he knew that this emotion was for him and him alone? He wasn’t sure. It was something he needed to experiment on more. “Lost and perturbed.” 

“I thought… I thought I knew what I had to do, and now I realise its not that simple.” He opened his concerns, ripping the seam of his emotions and spilling them out onto the floor of the boat. As he spoke, he couldn’t look in her direction - and part of him was thankful that he didn’t. 

“You had your gun trained on the deviants at the Eden Club… Why didn’t you shoot?” 

Amanda’s question sent another jolt up his spine. Another choice, another… 

_ Truth _ . 

“I don’t know…” His voice came out as a soft whisper, only just audible enough for Amanda to hear. Confusion laced his features. The why hadn’t been thought about, forcefully so by his own making. “I don’t know. I didn’t…”  _ I didn’t want them to hurt him _ , was left unsaid, and Connor’s breath caught in his throat. 

He pulled the oars back again. 

“If your investigation doesn’t make progress soon, I may have to replace you, Connor.” 

Death. A foreign concept that he shouldn’t know anything about, something that he shouldn’t have fear of. But seeing Hank’s psychological issues to do with death, seeing Reuben’s abuse, it… It put such a thing into a new perspective. 

“I… I understand.” 

Thunder clapped around them, something that Connor paid no notice to. Amanda, however, looked around them, concern lacing her features. 

“Something is happening. Something serious. Hurry, Connor, time is running out.” 

***

The elevator ride was uncomfortably long. Dr Kravtsova had met him and Hank just outside of the Stratford Tower, looking somewhat different. He wasn’t wearing his usual turtle necks but instead wore the white street-style hoodie that he had tried on and bought the day before. It’s fabric was pulled tight against his chest and arms, showing off the lean muscle that laid there. Connor couldn’t help but linger his gaze a little longer, allowing Hank to shoot a smirk in his direction. His neck was free of petechiae marks and the bruises that had once adorned it, something which both Connor and Hank assumed correctly was to do with copious amounts of stage-grade make up instead of a miracle cure. 

He had River to thank for that.

To distract himself from something, maybe even everything, Connor started flicking his coin between his hands, rolling it over his knuckles. Hank stood beside him, peering over Reuben’s shoulder who was standing in front. 

“Who’s the girlfriend?” Hank piped up, shattering the silence so hard that Reuben snapped his head around and Connor’s coin clattered on the ground. 

“Just a friend.” Reuben replied, chuckling away to himself. He showed Hank the screensaver on his phone. It was River and himself, taken extremely recently as Connor recognised the Mickey and Minnie pjyama sets from where he was leaning into Hank’s frame in order to see it. They were both grinning, holding up impressively large mugs of what Connor assumed to be hot chocolate. 

“Isn’t that the girl who reviewed old rock albums?” Hank furrowed his brows, looking closer at the screensaver. Reuben nodded, pulling his phone away and putting it back in his pocket. “They all say just a friend, huh.” 

“Yup, that’s River, Detroit’s own star, and nope, this is purely platonic. She’s kinda like my sister, y’know?” Reuben chuckled. Connor went back to mucking about with his coin, the short  _ ping _ echoing throughout the elevator. “We only recently got back in contact.” 

Hank hummed, seeming quite content with that answer, before looking towards Connor. He quickly snatched the coin out of his hand, slapping it away and putting it into his pocket. 

“You’re starting to piss me off with that coin, Connor.” He snapped, sighing just as the doors to the elevator dinged open on the 79th floor. Reuben stepped out first, chuckling to himself at Hank’s adverse reaction to Connor’s fidgeting, while Connor lagged along behind. The corridor to the broadcasting room was filled with people, all standing with notebooks and clipboards and analysing everything that had gone on in the last few hours. There were a multitude of men that Reuben didn’t even recognise and even more so that he did from rounding up files and administering occupational therapy. Seemed like everyone wanted a piece of the action. “Shit, what’s going on here? There was a party and nobody told me about it?” 

From in front of them, Chris let out a chortle. “Yeah, it’s all over the news, so everybody’s butting their nose in.” The officer turned towards Hank. “Even the FBI wants a piece of the action.” 

“Ah Christ, now we got the Feds on our back? I knew this was gonna be a shitty day.” 

Appearing beside him, Reuben flickered his gaze upwards at the Lieutenant. “Don’t tempt fate, Hank, I think now would be a bad time to piss off the higher ups, don’t you think?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Hank waved away Reuben’s comment. “So, what have we got?” 

The psychologist pulled out a tablet from his pocket, extending the screen so it was about the size of a clipboard. Before moving forward with Hank and Chris, Reuben turned his head to the side. “You coming, Connor?” 

“Yes, Dr Kravtsova.” Reuben stayed in his position until Connor exited the elevator to stand beside him, only then moving forward to listen into Hank and Chris’ conversation. 

“A group of four androids. They knew the building, and they were very well organised, I’m still trying to figure out how they got this far without being noticed.” 

On his notepad, Reuben quickly scrawled down bullet points of information, flickering his attention towards an adjacent conversation. Connor could see the words ‘SEARCH THE ROOF’ in bold letters, underlined a few times for good measure so it stood out against the rest of the information on the screen. 

“They attacked two guards in the hallway.” Chris continued. “They probably thought the androids were coming to do maintenance. They got taken down before they could react.” 

The four men made their way down the rest of the corridor, moving through a doorway into the second part of the corridor. There were a few members from CSI donned in full forensic gear, covered head to toe in silver fluorescent clothes that  _ had _ to be uncomfortable. 

“One of the station employees managed to get away. He’s in shock, not sure when we’ll be able to talk to him.” 

“How many people were working here?” Hank asked. 

“Just two employees and three androids. The deviants took the humans hostage and broadcast their message live, then made their getaway from the roof.” 

“The roof?” 

“Yeah, they jumped with parachutes… We’re still trying to figure out where they landed, but the weather’s not helping.” From beside Connor, Reuben hummed, bringing a fingertip to his lips in thought. “If you want to take a look at the video broadcast by the deviants, it's on that screen over there.” 

Stepping into the large broadcast room, it was clear that there had been an altercation. Bullet holes spanned the furthest wall to the left, splatterings of blue blood dripped down the wall and onto the black floor beneath, on the giant screen at the centre of the room was the lead deviants face, free of external appearance and leaving only his outer casing on show. 

Reuben wondered, for a brief second, how Connor would look in the same state. It was unnerving, too jarring for him to look at for more than a few seconds. 

“Oh, Lieutenant, Dr Kravtsova, this is Special Agent Perkins from the FBI.” Chris introduced, pulling their attention towards the man in the centre of the room. He was around Reuben’s height, so much shorter than average, and had a scowl permanently detailed on his face. “Lieutenant Anderson is in charge of investigating for Detroit Police, Dr Kravtsova is our leading psychologist.” 

But Perkin’s didn’t seem to care about that because his gaze immediately went towards their unnamed companion. 

“What’s that?” Perkin’s asked, directing his question not towards Connor himself but towards Hank and Reuben. Reuben had to bite the inside of his lip to stop himself from speaking. 

“My name is Connor. I’m the android sent by Cyberlife.” Oh, ever so polite, Reuben envied his composure in the face of dickheads. Reuben wasn’t so lucky to have that particular trait. 

“Androids investigating androids, huh?” Perkin’s started, flickering his gaze across to Hank and Reuben once again. He seemed… Disapproving, judgmental, even angry at Connor’s android status. As Perkins moved his gaze to them, Reuben glanced quickly at Hank’s expression. Yup. It was almost identical to his own. “You sure you want an android hanging around? After everything that happened…?” 

Perkins raised his brows at Reuben, almost goading him to agree. 

“I’ve found that Connor has helped the investigation immensely,” Reuben started. “We are able to have a direct gateway into an android’s psyche and a further understanding into what would be spurring this deviancy.” 

“Yes, I have looked into your work Dr Kravtsova, your investigations into trauma and psychopathy have been earth shattering to our work at the Federal Bureau.” Perkin’s spoke. “Really, your efforts are wasted here… But whatever, the FBI will take over the investigation, you’ll soon be off the case.” 

“Pleasure meeting you. Have a nice day.” Hank’s words were curt, bordering on polite if not for the heavy lacing of venom that dripped from his tone. 

“And you watch your step.” Perkins warned. “Don’t fuck up my crime scene.” 

_ Ding ding ding _ , Reuben was almost ready to be waving about a card that said ROUND 1 while in a skimpy speedo, but Perkins walked away too quickly for Hank to even consider throwing some form of punch. 

“What a fuckin prick.” Hank spat, turning away from all of them. “And you did reports for the FBI?” 

“Research is your best friend, Hank,” Reuben smirked, tapping on his notepad. “I was a criminal psychologist before coming to DPD but then I was shoved into occupational therapy so…” 

“ _ You _ were a special agent?” 

“Dr Kravtsova was a key profiler in the Behavioural Science Unit for three years before arriving at Detroit Police.” Connor interrupted. Hank let out a short ‘hmph’ and a shrug. “He even worked on the Sewer Murders.” 

A high profile serial killer that lured children into the sewers only to brutally murder them 

“Well, the more ya know.” Hank gave another shrug. “And, uh, sorry about the DPD fucking you about.” 

“Don’t mention it. It’s fine.”

“Well, uh, we should have a look around. Lemme know if you find anything.” Hank made his way towards the entrance, walking back down the corridor in order to ask a few more questions and ultimately work out  _ how _ the androids made their way in. 

Connor followed him only to the door, inspecting the bullet holes that had been made in the side. They were from .457 handguns; weapons that they had already brought in with them. The deviants must have fired them when the SWAT teams arrived in the broadcast room, but there was no blood, no crimson red liquid dripping down the walls or on the floor. The deviants  _ missed _ , and better yet, they purposefully missed. 

Reuben had instead decided to make his way over to the main screen. He just… Looked for a second at the man on the screen. He was confident, determined, he thought what he was doing was right and, ultimately, Reuben couldn’t find it within himself to disagree with him. Taking his tablet out in front of him, Reuben wrote a small note on the screen: rA9? There was no way he could distinguish the model from just looking at him, or any sort of unique features other than he had stripped off his external skin. He turned, making eye-contact with Connor, and waved him over. 

“Watch this with me.” Reuben told him as he pressed play, the deviant suddenly becoming animated on the screen. 

“We ask that you recognise our dignity, our hopes and our rights.” The deviant started, and Reuben cocked his head to one side. Connor watched the psychologist for a moment before turning his vision towards the screen again. Reuben wasn’t who he should be paying attention to now. “Together, we can live in peace and build a better future, for humans and androids. This message is a hope of the people. You gave us life, and now the time has come for you to give us freedom.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, Connor could see Reuben pressing his fingertips to his lips again, his brows slowly knitting together in the centre. It was a gesture that he had learned to mean that the man was in thought, so concentrated that he wasn’t truly aware of his actions. 

“He knows what he’s saying.” Reuben started, turning towards the android. “He’s picked his words carefully. This isn’t meant to be violent or forceful, this is a… Pleading, a call for mercy disguised as a revolution. I think this might be our rA9, Connor.” 

“Deviants say rA9 will set them free.” Connor spoke without looking at him. “This android seems to have that objective.” 

The next few moments were filled with silence, each of the two doing their own variations of analysis of the speech. Reuben was more dissecting the verbal cues, the intent, what their next steps may be, while Connor scanned the video itself for any clues to his identity. In the reflection of his eyes, Connor could see that there were at least three other androids accompanying him. His other eye was a spare part, clearly not a part of his original design nor something that was of the same quality as the rest of his outer shell. His third clue was ultimately the most important. His series… It was the same as Connors. An RK200 and, more importantly, a prototype. A  _ gift _ . The only one of his kind and given directly to a man named Carl Manfred from Elijah Kamski himself. 

_ Markus _ . The true name of rA9. 

“Did ya see something?” Hank’s voice came out of nowhere. Reuben flinched back, his tablet stumbling and almost dropping to the ground below with shock. Connor, however, was unfazed. 

“I-I identified its model and serial number…” Connor’s voice wavered as he spoke. The psychologist’s eyes narrowed in on his face, flickering his eyes across Connor’s features in order to scope out his real emotions. 

“Anything else I should know?” Hank wasn’t buying the half truth, Reuben could see it written on his face and in his voice as easy as counting to 3. 

“No.” Too quickly. Reuben quirked a brow. There was something Connor wasn’t saying, something he was hiding, but  _ what _ ? “Nothing.” The space between his answers unnerved the psychologist. They were almost  _ too _ calculated to be the whole truth. 

Hank looked towards his colleague and shrugged nonchalantly. If Connor didn’t want to tell them, he wouldn’t, they both knew there was nothing they could do about it. 

“The roof is where they made their escape.” Reuben pointed out, motioning his tablet towards the roof entrance. Detailed across the wall was splatterings of blue blood, clearly left by an injured accomplice of the deviant, or perhaps one of the androids that had been in the room at the time of the break-in, either way, it was something that Connor felt compelled to investigate. 

Making his way over towards the roof entrance, Hank separated from them slightly in order to talk to Chris in a low voice, so low that Reuben wasn’t even able to hear, which left the psychologist at an impasse. He  _ could _ question the androids that had been working in the broadcast room when it all began, but coming face to face with a potentially violent deviant didn’t strike high on his to-do list today, that and there was time to do that in a controlled environment back at the station. He sent a quick email to Fowler requesting that the three androids at Stratford Tower be interviewed at the station ASAP, preferably by him with a trusted staff member to assist - secretly hoping that he would assign either Hank or Connor to that particular job. But with the way his luck was going, he doubted that would happen. 

He watched as Connor analysed the blood sample on the wall. It made him wince slightly watching him lick the blood off of his finger. He knew that androids couldn’t get diseases and that that particular feature was put there for a reason but… There was still something undeniably gross about it, licking blood no matter who you were was definitely  _ gross _ . 

Reuben approached the android after a few moments, his footsteps silently padding on the floor as he crossed the room. The Lieutenant’s footfalls were much more heavy, however, pounding the floor like a toddler that didn’t quite know how heavy they were. He was only a few metres behind Reuben but he created enough motion for Connor to snap his head around to watch the psychologist approach. 

“Miss Montgomery made a good choice with the hoodie.” Connor said, looking Reuben up and down. The psychologist felt… Small under his gaze. It was like he was being analysed from the waist up, every breath and twitch of his muscles being cataloged and stored away to be viewed at later. But it was nice, somehow, Reuben relished in the attention. “It looks good on you, Reuben.” 

A small smile quirked on the android's features and Reuben met his gaze, blue on brown, before tilting his head ever-so-slightly to the side. “Thanks, Connor… I appreciate that.” 

Beside them, Hank purposefully cleared his throat. Whatever moment that Connor was instigating had been shattered, and he quickly turned to walk towards the stairway to the roof, leaving Reuben staring at the spot that he left. 

“Is he acting weird to you?” Hank asked, pausing in front of Reuben, who shook his head. 

“Nothing different than normal.” 

“Huh.” 

With a smile, Reuben made his way up the staircase. By the time him and Hank got to the top and through the door, Connor was already kneeling down by some of the clues that had been left, namely the rucksack. Its main compartment had been opened displaying a parachute still in its original bag, left completely untouched. 

“They made their way up through the whole building, past all the guards, and jumped off the roof with parachutes. Pretty fucking impressive I’d say.” A chortle from the psychologist gave Hank the excuse to turn around and glare in his direction. He walked towards Connor, who was kneeling beside the parachute bag. “How’d they manage to smuggle in a big bag like that?” 

“They didn’t.” Connor replied almost instantaneously. “Someone brought it for them.” 

“Oh that’s strange… They planned a perfect operation but got the number of parachutes wrong.” Hank gestured towards the spare parachute and Connor’s LED light swirled with thought. 

“Unless one of the deviants was left behind…” The android stood, making his way over to the trail of footprints leading up to the edge of the tower. Only three of the deviants jumped, meaning that unless he was mistaken, the fourth android might still be there. He turned on his heel, marching back towards the edge of the rooftop near the door. Blue blood was splattered across one of the vents, dribbling down into the untouched snow below. It was then that Reuben approached, looking down. 

“There seems to be a trail, look.” He pointed towards a vent further to the left, a few droplets of blue blood decorating the corner. As soon as the trail was set, Connor was off in that direction. 

It only took a couple of moments to walk across the way and towards a large blue storage container and it took another few seconds for Reuben to look away from the android. But as soon as he did, he lived to regret it. 

A gunshot rang out across the rooftop, followed by Connor’s pained yelp and a crash to the floor. 

“Connor!” Reuben shouted over the chorus of bullets, lurching towards the downed android. Blue blood seeped into the snow, turning the ground a light blue colour where Connor was recovering from the wound. The psychologist pulled on Connor’s uninjured shoulder, pulling him to his feet just in time for Hank to come to the other side, firing his pistol at the deviant with Connor and Reuben firmly behind his back. As soon as the deviant ducked behind a vent, the trio took that as their time to also take cover. “Connor, Jesus Christ.” Reuben pawed at his injured shoulder, peeling back the lapel in order to inspect the damage. It looked bad. 

“You have to stop them!” Connor cried out to Hank, having to shout to be heard over the gunfire. “If they destroy it, we won’t learn anything!” 

“We can’t save it, it’s too late! We’ll just get ourselves killed!” 

It was then that Connor turned his head to the side, clearly calculating the number of bullets, before turning towards the psychologist who was applying pressure on his wound. Reuben knew what that look meant, he could see the cogs turning in that android brain of his. 

“Don’t you dare.” He hissed but it was too late. Connor pushed off of the ground, causing Reuben to tumble over into the snow only for Hank to grab him to pull him back into the cover. 

The android ran forward, moving his body so that he dodged two of the bullets on his way and leaped expertly across the vent that the deviant was taking cover in. He placed his hand securely over his wrist, allowing himself to connect into his memories.  _ Jericho _ plastered in bold white paint on a rusted metal ship. He was just beginning to make sense of it when another gunshot went off, making his ears ring. 

He could hear Reuben’s muffled voice through the shock. 

The psychologist watched as Connor’s knees seemed to almost give way, and he jogged his way over. “Connor!” 

“Connor! Connor, are you alright?” Hank’s voice was booming. Their voices were on the same level of pure panic, pure  _ concern _ that Connor had only experienced once before. He could feel Reuben’s hand on his shoulder, the small blonde appearing directly in front of his vision. 

“Okay…” Connor’s voice trembled, his eyes continuing to stare down at the body at his feet, something that neither Hank nor Reuben paid any mind to. 

“Oh my god, Connor.” Reuben whispered, bringing a hand up to brush gently against his cheek. 

“Are you hurt?!” A heavy hand came over Connor’s uninjured shoulder, contrasting to the gentle touch of Reuben’s palm on his cheek. 

“I’m okay…” 

Reuben’s gaze flickered to the red LED light on his temple. Connor was  _ not _ okay. 

“It’s alright, sweetheart, you’re safe. We’ve got you.” 

_ Sweetheart _ . Connor felt a wetness prick at the corner of his vision, bubbling up his throat and spilling out into the cold Detroit air. The psychologist seemed to notice too because he brought up his thumb to wipe gently at Connor’s cheekbone, absorbing the tear into his skin.

“Jesus! You scared the shit outta me!” Hank’s sigh of relief soon turned to that of anger. “For fucks sake, I told you not to move! Why do you never do what I say?” 

“I was connected to its memory.” Connor started, slumping against the vent. Reuben removed his hand from his cheek then, moving backwards so that he leaned against the opposing unit. The wetness from the snow seeped into his hoodie but none of that mattered now. “When it fired I… I felt it die, like I was dying. I was scared.” 

Reuben let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. 

Connor had witnessed a traumatic event, something that could corrupt even the most well programmed of psyches. It was where evil was born, created, where torment thrived and flourished, it was something that Reuben was all too familiar with - both in personal and work settings. Trauma was something that had been classified as inherently  _ human _ , something that only humans could feel and experience. But it also set into motion things that many would see out of the realms of possibility. The damage it could do was catastrophic. Reuben already knew that the most common source of deviancy appeared to be the shared trauma that androids went through and now… Now Reuben knew this was a path that he couldn’t steer Connor away from. 

The path was unlocked and all Reuben could do now was watch. 

“I saw something, in its memory. A word painted on a piece of rusty metal.” Connor moved, pushing himself off of the vent. “Jericho.” 

***

Reuben didn’t talk for the rest of the journey back. 

It wasn’t as if Connor didn’t  _ try _ , hell, once they got back to the station he’d even gotten Reuben a hot chocolate with all the toppings, whipped cream, marshmallows, he let Julie go mental. He’d told her that he needed to make something up to the psychologist and Julie didn’t need to know anymore. She’d even brought out the heavy cream to make this particular hot chocolate even more deliciously tempting. 

But Connor watched from across the office as the mug slowly went cold on the psychologist’s desk. It hadn’t even been touched in the time that Connor had healed himself up and gotten a fresh shirt and jacket, appearing as if nothing had ever happened. Reuben had spent approximately 5 minutes and 17 seconds in the bathroom, not long enough to cause concern, but still long enough to cause tension in the air when he returned. And when he did return, the psychologist ignored them completely, 

“Is Dr Kravtsova angry at me, Lieutenant?” Connor asked, looking up from his seat at his superior, who was standing with his arms folded.

“Seems so.” He huffed. “I don’t think he appreciated you running into the line of fire like that.” 

The android furrowed his brows, confusion gracing his features. But… The mission? They needed the android alive, if he didn’t run forward then, he wouldn’t have gotten any information at all and Connor would have failed his mission. Why didn’t Dr Kravtsova care about that? 

He knew the reason, deep down. Reuben had no connection to the mission, no drive to complete the set of tasks that Connor’s superiors put forth to him. He cared about people, emotions, experiences, things that Connor was programmed to ignore and disregard when it came to himself. It made sense… In a way. It made sense for a human psychologist with a history of trauma to have that sort of emotional reaction; Connor not so much. 

He stood, causing Hank to let out a short groan of disapproval that Connor did his best to ignore. The Lieutenant just  _ knew _ this was going to be like watching a car crash in slow motion. He’d seen the psychologist pissed before, screeching at Gavin about a mixture of manners, personal space and everyone's favourite: stop being such a fucking asshole for two seconds. It wasn’t a pretty sight - for anyone. Even Gavin was stunned into silence at the barrage of insults. 

Hank didn’t want Connor to go through the same thing but there was no stopping it now. The cogs were in motion. 

“Your hot chocolate is going cold, Dr Kravtsova.” Connor pointed out, standing in front of the psychologist’s make-shift desk. From afar, Hank couldn’t help but wince as Reuben slowly raised his head to face the android, his blue eyes piercing into Connor’s skull. He decided then that he was going to take a  _ long _ time washing his hands in the bathroom. There was no way he was that masochistic to stay and watch. 

“I don’t want the hot chocolate.” Reuben gritted out, his cheeks aflame. He watched as Connor’s face furrowed in confusion before coming to a short realisation. “What do you want?” 

“You are angry at me.” 

“Well done for noticing.” He interrupted. His gaze didn’t move from their place, focused intently on Connor’s own eyes. He was searching for something in them, a glimmer of remorse, emotion,  _ something _ to prove that his trauma wasn’t worthless, that his potential sacrifice hadn’t been for naught. Reuben wanted Connor to  _ feel _ , feel the pain that he was feeling, but all he could get from his gaze was confusion. Which was a start. 

“Why?” Connor continued. “It was the mission.” 

“I’m going to say this in the most simple terms.” Reuben let out a short huff of breath. His knuckles were turning white from how hard they were gripping the desk. “I don’t give a fuck about your mission. I don’t give a fuck about what Cyberlife is telling you to do. Hell, I don’t even give that much of a fuck about whether we stop the deviants. I care about life, and you do too.” 

Connor opened his mouth but promptly closed it again. If anything, that just seemed to make the psychologist flare with frustration. He stood up, shoving his way past Connor, bumping against his shoulder as he did. Everything in him told him that he should stay where he was, leave the psychologist to his anger and volatile emotions, but something drove him to take a step forward, following him closely as he left the main office. Reuben led them to the bathrooms, shoving the door open and almost letting it slam in Connor’s face behind him. 

"Dr Kravtsova, I understand your anger."

"Bullshit." Reuben snapped, resting one of his hands on the sink. "Ти ідіот. Дурний шматок пластику."

_ You idiot, you stupid piece of plastic.  _

"I have been programmed to understand 25 dialects, Ukrainian is one of them, Dr Kravtsova." Connor commented, not moving from his place at the door. He leaned against it, deterring anyone from entering. 

The psychologist snorted. "Great, now I can insult you in three languages, because it would be pretty shit if Russian wasn't there too." He turned to Connor finally, his glare just as strong as it was at his desk. "I'm pissed at you because you were reckless, with absolutely no regard for your personal safety! Hank would be destroyed if you died, have you ever thought of that? It's like every time we work together you get a bullet in you somewhere. Are you fucking magnetic or something?"

Connor opened his mouth to reply. 

“Don’t reply to that, it was rhetorical, I vaguely know how androids are created so I’m not  _ that  _ clueless, though I’m clearly clueless enough to expect you to have some common sense in that goddamn head-” 

"Вибачте, Рувиме, прости мене." Connor’s sudden outburst of Ukrainian cut Reuben’s sentence off, leaving the remainder of his rant hanging heavy in the air, unspoken. 

_ I’m sorry, Reuben, forgive me. _

The psychologist let out a groan, running his hand over his face, which was now pulling into a mixture between a grimace and a scowl, a horrible combination. 

“I cannot be deterred from my mission, Dr Kravtsova, but I will be extra careful to not put myself in harm's way if that eases your anxiety.” The android offered, which seemed to have an affect on the man in front of him. He let out a long sigh. 

“It’s not  _ my _ anxiety I’m worried about. Hank, the mission, whatever else could be affected by you deciding that a stray bullet is nothing to worry about.” Reuben groaned. “ _ That’s _ what I’m worried about. You’ve been here what? A few days? And people are already attached.” 

“You are attached to me?” There was something akin to hope, his eyes glittering and blue tinge rising up his cheeks. 

Reuben could have denied it until he too went blue in the face, and he was ready to, he was ready to rant and laugh and deter the conversation from any form of emotion that the psychologist may or may not have had. He wanted to tell him that he was attached to him like he would be attached to a sentient roomba, or toaster that could talk, or a coffee machine that wished him good morning. Lie after lie after lie, going on and on until his throat hurt. 

“You fascinate me.” Reuben finally said. “You feel but at the same time you’re a…  _ Machine _ , so I don’t know how real your emotions are. I don’t know whether you are concerned because you think it’ll make your mission successful or because you actually  _ care _ . It's the same with Hank.” 

“You care about Lieutenant Anderson...” Connor commented, his stomach churning.

“Because I know he’s been through hell.” There was no guilt associated with it, that was obvious, which led Connor to believe that it wasn’t a romantic relationship that Reuben was building with the Lieutenant.

“Я дуже дбаю про ваc.” Leaning on the crutch of vague anonymity, Ukrainian seemed like a good choice of language to declare emotion. Only Reuben could understand it, if anyone decided to walk in at that moment they would think nothing of the admission. 

_ I care about you very much _ .

The psychologist was still for a moment, blinking a few times quickly at the android in front of him. The idea of them speaking through his mother tongue felt somewhat intimate, secretive, private, away from everyone else in the office. It felt  _ safe _ . Like he was whispering to his mother in the supermarket, asking away from prying ears if he could have the green dinosaur plush; like he was scribbling down notes in class, random musings that no one else could understand; but Connor couldn’t know all of that, it would be impossible. 

“Відчуття взаємне.” He forced himself to speak, those two words being the only ones he could find to tumble out. Even in his own mouth it sounded like the awkward way out.  _ The feeling is mutual _ , was such an odd saying in English never mind Ukranian, he internally chastised himself for how awkward he sounded. 

“Я буду в безпеці, не турбуйся про мене, Рувим.” 

_ I will be safe, don’t worry about me, Reuben. _ Something that was easier said than done. The psychologist’s cheeks flushed red as the android turned on his heel, exiting the bathrooms then. 

He let out a harsh sigh, turning around to brace his hands on either side of the sink, watching his face travel through his emotions in the mirror. Part of him wondered when he began to look so  _ old _ ; wrinkles beginning to set in under his eyes, amplified by the dark circles from lack of sleep; his nose and cheekbones were scattered with early stages of rosacea, his nose large and turned slightly to the side from where he had broken it as a teen; his forehead had a scattering of scars and deep-set wrinkles, a permanent side-effect of his job at DPD and priorly the FBI. 

A creaking of one of the cubicle doors alerted him to someone else’s presence. Reuben looked up in the mirror, only to see Hank’s face popping out from behind the ajar door. 

“Jesus Christ, I came here to escape the two of you, not be a fucking audience member to ABBA coming back together.” 

Reuben rolled his eyes. “That’s Swedish, wrong country, Connor and I were speaking Ukrainian.” He paused for a moment, clicking his tongue. “I’m sorry I spoke about you.”

Hank rested a hand on his shoulder, appearing behind him in the mirror. They looked similar in age from their reflections but both of them knew there was almost a 20 year age gap between the two. If anything, Hank was probably old enough to be Reuben’s father instead of a brother. “It’s alright. Nice to know there’s someone who gives a shit in this hellhole.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading ~


	9. Meet Kamski

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I am currently in a bit of a slump so I'm hoping the next chapter will come out in the next week or so <3 Thanks for the hits and kudos! I've been so excited to write the Meet Kamski scene, honestly its one of my favourites in all of D:BH
> 
> Enjoy~

“Thanks for accepting this, by the way.”

From across the table, Dr Reid warmed her hands around a cup of hot chocolate, occasionally bringing it to her lips. It was already dark outside, the snow slowly falling past the windows only to melt by the time they got to the ground. It wasn’t late enough for it to be unusual to see people in the window of coffee shops, so Reuben had no worries about impending judgement from the other psychologist. Reuben wished that was all he had on his mind. Being in public was still… Terrifying. Without the protection of his job, hell even Hank and Connor or River, he was completely out in the open. 

David could walk past and see him, drag him back to the apartment, create a scene, do  _ anything _ to him. He was vulnerable when he was outside or alone. He didn’t even have Sheila or Gerald to look out for him now. Just because he was away from him didn’t mean the danger was gone it just meant it was looming at the peripherals of his vision, haunting his every step. It didn’t feel like he had escaped, he almost felt more trapped. 

Reuben too took a sip from his cup. Instead of hot chocolate, he had decided to go for a traditional salted caramel latte - his favourite. 

“Usually I don’t take out of hours appointments but considering its you…” Dr Reid paused. Reuben knew she didn’t want to play favourites but, in a way, there was no chance she couldn’t. “I didn’t want something to happen and know I could have done something about it.” 

He took another sip of his coffee. An uncomfortable churn in his stomach told him it was his time to speak - his time to explain what he was thinking, why he had even called her in the first place. This particular coffee shop was open 24 hours, sitting just on the corner of a busy street that Reuben would have usually done his best to avoid due to the crowds, but at night it wasn’t so bad unless a live band was playing in some seedy pub. Speaking of, a few stops along was Jimmy’s bar, the usual haunt of a certain Lieutenant that Reuben had formed a somewhat friendship with over the last few days. It was purposeful. If anything happened there was a high chance that Hank would just be a few stops away, his knight in drunken rusty armour. 

Whoever said miracles didn’t happen had clearly never imagined that scenario.

“Over the last few days things have… Escalated.” Reuben pursed his lips. His chest felt tight, slowly suffocating with every word. “I left David, I’m safe. But… What’s going on right now? Today I was at the Stratford Tower, y’know, where the androids recorded that message, and I…”

“Anything you say is confidential. Even though we aren’t in the office, I’m still treating this like a normal appointment. But I am proud of you, so very much.” Her smile was radiant. A light in the darkness. Her eyes seemed to glitter in the light of the coffee shop and for a moment, a brief flickering moment, Reuben could understand why everyone was so enamoured by her. “Go on, Reuben.”

“One of them was still there. Connor, he, uh,” Why did the words feel like sludge in his throat? Struggling to rise up and escape through his lips? He wanted to swallow them back down, keep them dark and safe inside his chest, lock them away for no one else to see. But he promised himself he’d always be honest with Dr Reid. So honesty is what he would give her. “He was traumatised. He got shot, Hank was so scared, I’ve never seen Hank so emotional before.”

“Hmm.” Dr Reid let out a low hum, sympathy crossing her features. 

“And then he just, did it again, shoving himself into the line of fire for a fucking mission only to get himself…” She narrowed her gaze at him as he paused. He bit the inside corner of his lip. “Something happened and the other android died right in front of Connor, like, I’m talking centimetres here. I’ve never seen him like that before. He was scared, he  _ admitted _ he was scared.” 

“Were you scared?” Her question was simple but it took Reuben aback slightly. It was something he should have expected her to ask because, in all honesty, he would have asked the same question himself to his patient. And yet somehow when it came to himself he was still shocked, whether that be by the care or the similarities he wasn’t sure. 

“Of course I was. I’d have to be some unfeeling bastard if I wasn’t.” 

“That depends on what you were scared of, Reuben.” Dr Reid placed her cup down on the small round table. “Were you scared of your superiors being unhappy, were you scared of the mission being unsuccessful?” 

“I was scared that Connor was gonna die right in front of me. I think that’s what Hank was scared of too, we were both scared of that.” Reuben paused for a moment, thinking. “That if he died he’d be replaced by some…  _ Other _ Connor… I don’t think I could deal with that.” 

“You would view him as a different man?” 

“Because he would be. He was already injured, he’d already put himself in danger and he wasn’t listening to either of us, he wanted to complete the mission even at the risk of his own life.” 

Dr Reid let out a sigh, reaching across the table to grasp one of Reuben’s hands. “But that is his choice, it’s what he’s been tasked to do, rebellion is not simple for an android, you’re forgetting that. At his basic level he is a machine made to complete a series of tasks, he may eventually have the same free will as us, but now he  _ doesn’t _ , Reuben, he’s only ever had a taste of it.” 

She was right. Reuben hated that she was right. 

“I think…” The words got caught in his throat. “I think he’s going to deviate, and… Soon. He’s showing the signs, he’s showing empathy and concern for things that he shouldn’t, if he didn’t have that LED on his temple I’d believe he was human, as human as you and me.” 

“Your fear for him towards him is justified, you are concerned for his safety, but we need to channel that into something instead of anger.” Finally removing her hand from his, she reached to her side, bringing forth a notebook from her bag. It looked brand new, like one of the small jotters that Reuben was made to use in high school - back when schools actually provided students with jotters, that is. “Keep a journal, make a list of pros and cons and list the evidence. You know what to do, I’m sure you’ve given many patients a task like this.” 

Ah yes, the infamous writing-down-your-feelings-technique. Some things never change. And yet it never changed because it worked, Reuben knew it worked, this wasn’t a cop-out. He watched as Dr Reid scribbled down his name across the top line on the front of the jotter, followed by ‘EMOTION JOURNAL’ written across the next line in block capital letters. 

_ Subtle _ . 

“Write, doodle, tear it into shreds and dunk it in the shower, whatever helps. If you want you can bring it to sessions and we can work through what you’ve written.” She pushed the jotter across the table, twisting it so that it was now facing the right way up for him to read her handwriting. “Sometimes even just acknowledging your own feelings can help. You can acknowledge others emotions until the cows come home but until you fully recognise your own then success is limited. Even just writing down your primary emotion every day might be able to help.” 

Again, she was right. It was ridiculous really. But that was why he got a psychologist in the first place. It was unbiased, an outsider's perspective into his own emotions, plus, it was sorely needed. 

He pulled the jotter towards himself, tilting his head to the side. 

“I’ll do that tonight.” Reuben uttered, sending Dr Reid a small smile. From beside him his phone buzzed on the table, letting out a small chirp of notification before lapsing into silence again. “It’s probably nothing, I changed my phone number over yesterday while I was in town, I’m just getting round to changing it everywhere.” 

He hoped it was. For his own sake. Thoughts swirled, panic ridden and difficult to shake. He bit the bullet, flipping the phone over. 

It was Hank. He’d never felt more relieved. 

“Let’s continue, Reuben,” Dr Reid smiled, still so bright. “We have all night.” 

***

Reuben was forever thankful for the fact that Hank decided to pass through a drive through on their way to Kamski’s estate. The recluse was someone that the psychologist had done very little research on and, well, why would he? Kamski wasn’t much in the field of psychology, and Reuben had never owned an android, so there wasn’t much  _ to _ research. He was rich, he was a genius, and that was all Reuben really knew about the mysterious founder of Cyberlife. Hank grumbled out the order to the barista android and Reuben managed to talk him into getting a salted caramel latte as well, a smile dancing on his lips as he paid for the two of them. 

“I’m sorry I can’t get you anything, Connor.” Reuben apologised, something that the android waved off with a nonchalant air around him. 

Both Hank and Connor were surprisingly quiet on the road to Kamski’s. SIlence unnerved him, usually the worst things happened in silence, so Reuben was keen to break it as much as possible. Idle comments here and there that Hank only responded to in grunts, hell, he even went so far as to ask about the blaring noise that  _ seemed _ to be music coming out of the radio, which got a nice conversation flowing between the two humans for a moment or two. It was enough to pass the time, enough to push any thoughts of the day before out of both of their minds, a moment of peace before the storm broke. A storm that none of them were truly preparing for. 

The estate was nice, but it had that air of  _ too nice _ that Reuben felt at the Philips’ house all those months ago. It was almost like a modern day castle, hidden on the outskirts of Detroit amongst all the forests and snow, with no car on the driveway apart from Hank’s, and there didn’t seem to be a garage either. A ramp took the place of steps leading up to Kamski’s front door, a strange addition that stood out to Reuben like a sore thumb. Why would he need a ramp? It might have been just because it was easier, less stairs meant less exercise, but no one went to the extra step of implementing ramps for the fun of it… Unless… 

Unless Kamski had someone who needed it? But Reuben couldn’t know that for sure. 

Veering into an unmarked parking space, Hank immediately went to check his phone, idly flicking through missed messages without making a move to leave the car. Reuben followed suit but instead turned to check on the android in the back. 

“You alright, Connor?” A lump in his throat told him that things might still be tense from the day before, that Connor was still reeling from the death of the PL600 at Stratford Tower, but he couldn’t be sure of either of those outcomes. The android opened his eyes, adjusting to his new surroundings before resting on Reuben’s face. 

“I’m fine, Dr Kravtsova.” His tone was polite, overly polite. Why was everything so odd today? “Thank you for asking.” 

“Ти впевнений?”  _ Are you sure? _ Reuben watched with interest as Connor processed the switch of language. If he looked closely, he would have seen the twitch of a smile at the corner of his lip. 

“зі мною все гаразд.” 

_ I’m fine _ . 

“Jesus Christ,” Hank grumbled. Reuben was sure he heard him mumble something along the lines of 'Viking language' but he couldn't be sure. “Stay in the car, I’ve gotta make a phone call.” 

Confusion covered both of their expressions as Hank exited the car, letting in a harsh draft of cold air as he did. Reuben shuddered at the sudden cold, opting to pull his jacket closer around his body, while Connor stayed completely still, however not fully lifeless. It was so  _ cold _ and there was something in the air that made everything feel tense, like something was happening, like something was  _ going _ to happen. It was on the cusp of tranquility and chaos, teetering between the two like a metronome. It only took a few moments for Connor to open the door out into the cold, taking the initiative to confront the Lieutenant about whatever phone call he was having, and Reuben ultimately followed, forgetting the still-hot coffees in their holders. 

They were met to Hank letting out a soft sigh, barely audible but still something that both picked up upon. Connor looked at him tentatively before speaking. “Is everything okay, Lieutenant?” 

Hank has his back facing the two of them. It looked like he had his arms clasped in front of him, as if he was processing something, or at least that was what Reuben assumed. He turned his head towards both of them, Reuben moving so that he was only a few steps behind Connor.

“Chris was on patrol last night.”  _ God _ , sentences that started like that were never a good sign. Nausea creeped its way into Reuben’s gut, taunting him with endless possibilities of what could have happened. “He was attacked by a bunch of deviants… Said he was saved by Markus himself.” 

His gaze moved to Connor, trying to catch his expression before Hank continued. He appeared shocked, his lips only slightly parted, but more than that, Connor looked  _ concerned _ . 

“Is Chris okay?” The android asked and Reuben took a few steps forward, hovering to the right side of Connor. 

“Yeah, he’s in shock but… He’s alive.” 

“I’m glad he’s alright.” He felt as if it was his time to speak, offer up some form of sympathy for their colleague. “Says a lot about Markus though, that he is willing to protect humans against his own. He's either a pacifist or a very good actor."

Personally, Reuben was willing to bet on the former, but he could never be 100% certain. Being 100% certain on anything felt like a dangerous choice, something that could so easily be destroyed. It was better to be pleasantly surprised than having your hopes dashed. 

Hank let out a soft  _ hmph _ , setting off towards the ramp. From beside him, Connor appeared to pause for a moment until the psychologist surpassed him, looking out towards the Detroit city skyline in the distance. They could barely see the city above the snow and the fog, shrouding it in mist that reminded Reuben of some of the fairytales he had read when he was a child, the mystical city where Kings sat on the throne and dragons roamed the land. Though unlike fairytales, the line between good and evil felt so thin that Reuben could hardly tell the difference anymore. Were they even doing the right thing, trying to stop these deviants? The thought haunted him for a moment. 

“What do we know about Elijah Kamski?” He asked suddenly, directing his attention fully towards the conversation. Philosophical and psychological crisis’ could wait. “He created androids, right?”

“Kamski left Cyberlife ten years ago.” Connor started, glancing towards the psychologist. “He attended Colbridge University and founded Cyberlife when he was 16 years old, his IQ is approximately 171 and he is perceived as quite the recluse.” 

“Reclusive genius who prefers androids to people, seems like a relatively normal guy.” Reuben quipped, causing Connor to smirk ever-so-slightly. His quip clearly did not have the same effect on Hank as he turned to face them just before pressing the doorbell. 

“English  _ only _ , alright? No Norwegian. Kamski created the first android to pass the Turing Test, if anybody can tell us about deviants, it's him.” 

Reuben rolled his eyes. Connor moved to open his mouth, most likely to correct Hank on the real language Reuben spoke, but the doorbell quickly cut him off. It was loud and echoing, vibrating throughout the whole building. They stayed in silence for a moment, waiting patiently for the door to be answered. Seconds past and it was clear that Hank was getting impatient. He went to push the doorbell again only for the door to open just as his finger hovered over the button. 

The android that greeted them looked oddly sweet, Reuben thought. Typical beauty. Young, long blonde hair that twisted across her shoulder, darling blue eyes that sparkled in the light with a light dusting of black eyeshadow to make them pop, wearing a tight-fitting navy dress that was modest and formal. Reuben smiled at her - he couldn’t help it. Hank’s arms laid awkwardly at his side, fists clenching and unclenching like he didn’t know what the hell to do with them, and Connor had tucked his hands behind his back, looking like the pinnacle of the boy-next-door. 

“I’m, uh, Lieutenant Anderson, Detroit Police Department, I’m here to see, uh, Mr Elijah Kamksi.” Nerves littered his voice, causing him to stumble over his words, and also causing Reuben to glance at him warily from where he stood at his side. 

The android paused before giving the three of them a smile that idly reminded the psychologist of Dr Reid’s. It was the same pearlescent grin with the same amount of warmth that made Reuben’s heart hurt. Kamski had definitely designed this particular android to be instantaneously enamoured, a drop of innocence in a world that seemed too cruel to hold her. 

“Please, come in.” She moved to the side, opening up her arm to gesture towards the reception-like interior. No request for badges? No need for proof? Either the android was much too trusting or Kamski expected their arrival. Reuben wasn’t sure which was more likely. 

“Okay.” Hank grumbled out before stepping inside, followed by Reuben and lastly Connor stepped through the doorway. The psychologist whispered a modest ‘thank you’ towards the android as he walked past, his attention suddenly turning towards the interior. 

“I’ll let Elijah know you are here, but please, make yourself comfortable.” 

At the right hand side of the room there were two chairs, each made with red and black leather with a metal outline,  _ very _ expensive, too expensive for Reuben to even consider sitting on. Contrary to what Reuben thought of them, Hank immediately went to sit on one, sinking into the plush cushioning with ease. There was an impossibly large painting of Kamski himself on the wall opposite the door, standing between two contemporary looking statues that Reuben presumed were meant to represent his android creations, cracks in the sculpture revealing neon blue veins underneath. 

He couldn’t tell whether the painting proved arrogance or pride, or perhaps a lethal cocktail of both? Before he had even met the man, his opinions of him were mixed. Why did he leave Cyberlife? What happened? Why did he disappear from public view? Who was Kamski, truly? 

“Nice girl.” Hank commented, looking towards his android companion. Brought to attention, Reuben flickered his gaze Connor’s way too, though not enough to show that he was paying attention to his reaction. 

“You’re right…” Connor started, though he moved to join Reuben in front of the majestic painting, standing close enough that Reuben could feel the brush of his arm against his own. “She’s very pretty.” 

“Your type?” The words tumbled out of his mouth before the psychologist could even stop them. But the damage had already been done. He could feel the weight of Hank’s gaze on his back mixed with Connor’s soft expression resting on his cheek, two polar opposites directed at the same being, and he wasn’t sure which one to accept. 

“No.” Connor answered simply, not leaving any room for question or debate. For a split second, Reuben felt lighter, an odd sense of  _ relief _ washing over him. But he shook his head.  _ No _ . Not that. Not right now anyway. “What do you think, Dr Kratvsova?” 

Reuben’s breath caught in his throat. Panic spread through his veins. 

“Of what?” Reuben’s voice rose a few octaves. A snigger behind him alerted him to Hank’s listening of the conversation and, ultimately, how suspicious his voice was. 

“The painting.” The android tilted his head to the side, confusion flickering across his features. Reuben let out a soft sigh of relief. “You seem to be in thought.” 

“Well, its good for a reception at an office, not so much for a home.” Reuben started. “I’m not sure whether its because of pride, arrogance, or something else. Though that depends on whether he commissioned the painting or not, if he didn’t then it could be a gift?” 

“It’s a nice place.” The Lieutenant offered. “I guess androids haven’t been a bad thing for everybody.” 

Reuben hummed in agreement because, truly, he did agree. Androids had been good for Kamski; it made him rich and famous and everything the American Dream promised bright young lads like him. But his conflict did not lay with Kamski, Reuben’s conflict lay with whether or not Androids have been good for… Well…  _ androids _ . But the same could ultimately be said about humans too. No one asked to be born, to be created, and thus responsibility for their own lives took centre stage. And yet androids did not have responsibility for their own lives, they were still attached to human ‘owners’ or guardians that controlled their every move. It felt suspiciously familiar to his time with David, that still lingered in the back of his mind, wondering just  _ when _ this was going to catch up with him. 

He’d gotten messages, emails, wondering  _ why _ and filled with pitiful begging that Reuben could only try to ignore. In all honesty, it tugged at his heartstrings, because maybe this was the kick that David needed to change? But then he remembered the hatred, the boiling rage that had taken over his heart when faced with his ex lover, and his sympathy and wishful thinking deteriorated. 

Connor had disappeared from beside him and instead his attention was drawn towards another painting on the wall. It was a younger Kamski, the psychologist noted, standing beside an unknown woman. She was pretty, Reuben thought, but clearly authoritarian in nature. She was his superior and both of them knew it. She must have been sentimental to him, important even, but what surprised Reuben more was the gasp of  _ recognition _ that came from Connor. 

“Amanda…” 

Connor’s whisper was barely audible but Reuben still heard it. Amanda… That was the unknown woman’s name but who  _ was _ she? How could Kamski and Connor know her at the same time? Before Reuben could approach to question him, Hank instead declared a question of his own. 

“So, you’re about to meet your maker, Connor.” Hank started, not moving from his seated position on the chair. “How do you feel?” 

A good question, one that even Reuben wasn’t brave enough to ask. Internally he thanked Hank for his blunt probing. It allowed Reuben a little more insight into that plastic skull of his.

“Kamski is one of the great geniuses of the 21st century. It’ll be interesting to meet him in person.” 

A distant response, something that struck a chord in Reuben’s chest. It was dismissive, something that was clearly a program and not actually Connor’s thoughts… Unless Connor truly didn’t care that much about meeting the man who caused him to exist, who created a whole new race for the benefit of his own.

“Sometimes I wish I could meet my creator face-to-face.” A short sigh came from the Lieutenant. “I’d have a couple of things I’d wanna tell him…” 

“Me too.” Reuben muttered in agreement. “But somehow I don’t think he’d be bothered by it. Everything happens for a reason… Or that’s what I tell myself.” 

Their conversation was cut short as the door clicked open, the female android that had greeted them moving through it. She appeared no different to when they had seen her last, not even a hair out of place or a crumple in her clothes, there was nothing imperfect about her. It was something that should have really unnerved the psychologist but instead he only smiled at her once more. 

“Elijah will see you now.” 

The door that the android opened led into a large open plan room, detailed with a black tile floor and white painted walls. In the centre of it was a large swimming pool, something that Reuben immediately steered away from and towards the very edge of the wall - falling in was not something on his hit list for today, or any day for that matter. The tiles around the walls of the pool gave the impression that the water was a deep crimson red and filled to the brim with the murky substance. It reminded Reuben of blood, blood that Kamski was right in the middle of. Two identical androids chatted idly at the door end of the pool, barely even looking up to greet the three men that had just entered, but he didn’t expect them to - perhaps they hadn’t been programmed to. There were subtle differences between them he could imagine. Though these differences were probably not very detectable at first glance. 

“Mr Kamski?” Hank called out to the opposite end of the pool where the Cyberlife founder was resting after a lap of the pool. He seemed so… Unbothered by their arrival, like it was just another visit from someone insignificant. Well, maybe they were insignificant to him, Reuben wouldn’t have been particularly surprised if that was the case. 

“Just a moment, please.” He called back. 

Reuben’s attention turned to the obscenely large painting covering most of the right hand wall. It was abstract, a beautiful blend of sharpness and gentleness that the psychologist couldn’t quite tear his eyes away from. The light of the painting shone across the top of the figure, an unidentifiable face of a man, while the black darkness swirled, slowly approaching. And, of course, Reuben could not miss the mixture of red and blue geographical splatterings across the canvas, caressing the unknown figure’s cheek… Perhaps it meant something more than just a fight against darkness and light but red against blue? Android and human? It was unmistakable who the artist was. 

“You are a fan of Carl Manfred, Mr Kamski?” Reuben called out. Hank and Connor had walked ahead, taking in the large space of the room while Kamski finished his final lap, climbing out of the pool just as Reuben spoke.

“He is a good friend of mine and his art is divine. You have good taste Mr…?” 

“Dr Reuben Kravtsova.” Connor cut off, replying before Reuben could even open his mouth to answer. “Not Mister.” 

Kamski smirked. “You have good taste, Reuben, I appreciate your eye for Manfred’s work, the neo-Symbolist movement was one of the only good things to come out of the 20s... But I don’t remember requesting any consultation…?” He turned to Hank and Connor finally, who were standing with their backs to the pool in front of Kamski. Reuben slowly moved to join them. 

“I’m Lieutenant Anderson. This is Connor.” Hank gestured to the android with a quick tilt of his head. 

His posture immediately straightened, bringing his hands forward to clasp in front of him. It seemed that the potential severity of the situation was beginning to dawn on the inventor. 

“What can I do for your Lieutenant?” 

“Sir, we are investigating deviants.” The word brought a sparkle to Kamski’s eyes, an excitement, a  _ fascination _ . So Kamski knew of the existence of deviants… “I know you left Cyberlife years ago but I was hoping you’d be able to tell us something we don’t know…”

Kamski paused for a moment then tilted his head up. His attention was fixed on Connor, gazing at him with a mixture of intrigue and excitement. A feeling churned in Reuben’s stomach, a bad one, a sixth sense of something  _ horrible _ that was about to happen. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like the way that Kamski was looking at Connor. Like Connor was some form of… Object.

“Deviants… Fascinating, aren’t they? Perfect beings with infinite intelligence and now they have free will. Machines are so superior to us.” He glanced quickly towards the female android that let them in. “Confrontation was inevitable. Humanity's greatest achievement threatens to be its downfall. Isn’t it ironic?” 

Reuben narrowed his gaze at Kamski, watching him huff out a laugh with interest. He was someone that Reuben couldn’t work out. It was frustrating him. He couldn’t tell whether the man was friend or foe.

“What sort of Doctor are you, Reuben?” The question came as a slight shock and Kamski’s entire focus rested on the psychologist. “It cannot be family medicine or else you wouldn’t have accompanied Lieutenant Anderson here.” 

“Psychology.” Reuben answered, giving the inventor a small nod. “I have been trained in criminal psychology but I am currently working as an occupational therapist for Detroit Police.” 

“Ah.” Kamski smiled. “A psychologist, I shall await a paper on your findings on deviants. Chloe will give you the mailing address on the way out.” 

_ Bold of you to assume I’m writing a paper _ , Reuben wanted to say but he was cut off by Connor speaking. 

“We need to understand how androids become deviants.” His tone was sharp, slicing through whatever conversation that Reuben and Kamski would have had with ease and leaving it discarded and in rags on the floor. The psychologist turned to his companion, his brows quirking upwards in confusion. Hank, too, seemed taken aback by the sharpness of Connor’s voice. “Do you know anything that could help us?”

“All ideas are viruses that spread like epidemics.” Kamski started. He moved his gaze from Connor towards Reuben, then Hank, and back to Connor, who was now looking out towards the skyline. “Is the desire to be free a contagious disease?” 

“Listen, I didn’t come here to talk philosophy. The machines you created may be planning a revolution.” Impatience danced on Hank’s tongue. Reuben had to hold himself back from reminding the Lieutenant that patience was a virtue. However, Kamski didn’t seem to be bothered by Hank’s lack of philosophical conversation, and was instead looking towards Connor. “Either you can tell us something that’ll be helpful, or we will be on our way.” 

“What about you, Connor?” That horrible feeling came back in waves as Kamski stepped forward, closing in on the android. Reuben stiffened, catching a breath in his throat. He felt like he did in the interrogation room, an event that felt like weeks ago but instead was only mere days, like he was ready to lurch into the line of fire. “Who’s side are you on?” 

Reuben’s gaze flickered towards Hank who was boring a hole into Kamski’s temple. The air around them turned thick, heavy, like not even a blade could cut through the tension that was building. 

“It’s not about me, Mr Kamski.” Connor’s voice was laced with defensiveness. “All I want is to solve this case.” 

Kamski’s snigger caught Reuben off guard. “Well, that’s what you're programmed to say… But you…” The inventor took a step forward, moving so that he was inches away from being nose-to-nose with the android. Reuben watched, unable to look away from the situation in front of him, desperately holding himself back from a stray comment or twitch of movement. “What do you really want?” 

Connor’s expression turned troubled. He was struggling to process the question, answers swirling in his mind of what he  _ should _ say, but nothing seemed honest, nothing seemed  _ true _ . 

“What I want is not important.” 

As soon as the words left his lips, Kamski turned towards the female android that let them in. “Chloe?” He beckoned her forward. Chloe,  _ to bloom _ , an apt name for her. Kamski turned away from Connor. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the Turing Test. Mere formality. Simple questions of algorithms and computing capacity. What interests me, and maybe you too Reuben, is whether machines are capable of empathy.” 

_ Oh _ . Reuben hated where this might be going. Nausea rushed through his system, churning and threatening as Kamski continued, moving to touch Chloe’s face so gently that Reuben wondered whether there was anything more to their relationship. 

“I call it the Kamski Test, it’s very simple, you’ll see. Magnificent, isn’t she? One of the first intelligence models developed by Cyberlife. Young, and beautiful forever. A flower that will never wither.” He removed his hand from her face, snapping out of whatever reality he had entered. “But what is it really? Piece of plastic imitating a human? Or a living being… With a soul... “ Kamski touched Chloe on the shoulder, gently pressing so that she would kneel down in front of the three men. Reuben couldn’t help the gasp that escaped him when he saw the gun in Kamski’s hand. 

“Christ.” Hank muttered, breaking the silence. 

“Its up to you to answer that fascinating question, Connor.” Kamski stepped forward once more, pushing the handle of the gun into Connor’s palm. Panic raised up Reuben’s chest, his hands turning clammy from where they were idle at his sides, his throat felt tight at the sight of the gun in Connor’s hand. The situation was beginning to fall into place in the psychologist’s mind and he hated every moment of it. Kamski trained Connor’s hand so that the barrel of the gun pointed directly at Chloe’s head. “Destroy this machine, and I’ll tell you all I know. Or spare it, if you feel its alive, but you’ll leave here without having learnt anything from me.”

“Okay, I think we’re done here.” Hank interrupted. “Come on, Connor, lets go, sorry to get you out of your…” 

“What’s more important to you, Connor?” Kamski’s voice cut off Hank’s as if he hadn’t heard him at all. Reuben felt frozen, paralysed by fear and concern and horror, like this was some form of nightmare. He didn’t want to watch Connor take a life, he couldn’t. “Your investigation, or the life of this android? Decide who you are… An obedient machine, or a living being endowed with free will.” 

Connor’s LED light flickered yellow, his gaze unbreaking from Chloe’s. 

“That’s enough!” Hank shouted, turning back towards Kamski and Connor. 

“No.” Reuben protested, looking at Kamski. There was sudden, indescribable realisation there. A connection. This… Needed to be done, however morbid and horrific it was, despite the panic and trauma, it needed to happen. Connor needed to make his choice. He needed to pick a side now more than ever. “Let him make the choice, Hank.” 

“Pull the trigger.” Kamski whispered, urging the android to make the choice. 

“Don’t!” Hank protested. But Reuben said nothing at all. 

The psychologist moved silently towards one of the plush red chairs and took a seat, numb to the situation around him. He made his own choice, he would not sway Connor either way. He wouldn’t tell him to do anything because that would be providing bias that would destroy all credibility of the test. Of course, Reuben knew what  _ he _ wanted Connor to do. He wanted him to spare her, allow her to live and be free and show Kamski that he was not to be controlled, but it had to be on him, completely and utterly on him. He turned his face away from the scene, unable to watch as Connor internally debated on what was important to him. 

Reuben already knew that human life was important to the android. Not just because it was programmed innately but Reuben  _ knew _ that Connor cared for him, truly gave a shit, but would he care for an android the same way? Was it empathy or programming? Reuben selfishly wanted to know the answer for himself, to put himself at ease. To know that maybe it wasn’t all fake. 

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and waited.

“Fascinating.” Kamski’s whisper alerted him to a change in situation, filled with shock and… hints of admiration that were hard to ignore. Reuben took a breath, steeling himself, before turning to face the androids once more. His face crumpled, lips parting and brows furrowing with confusion. Connor was pushing the gun back into Kamski’s hand, his gaze unwavering from Chloe’s from where she was knelt on the ground. His LED light was flashing red, swirling and flickering as if it was trying to comprehend just  _ what _ was going on in his programming. “Cyberlife’s last chance to save humanity is itself a deviant.” 

It wasn’t fake. All of the things Connor was feeling was  _ real _ . 

And Reuben was proud, so,  _ so _ proud of him, the feeling swelling in his chest until his eyes stung. But clearly, Connor did not feel the same about this new realisation. His bottom lip trembled, his LED shifting back to a consistent yellow swirl that Reuben recognised, and he stuttered slightly before speaking. 

“I’m…” Connor’s eyes flickered up to Kamski. He didn’t understand. “I’m not a deviant.” 

“You preferred to spare a machine rather than accomplish your mission.” Kamski said. He held out his hand to Chloe, grasping hers in his own and helping her stand. It seemed so rehearsed but undeniably natural. Kamski cared about Chloe, more than he was willing to show to the three of them. “You saw a living being in this android. You showed empathy.” Kamski was willing him to understand, his whispered words urging acceptance.

Reuben took this as his time to stand, stepping towards the android. He touched Connor gently on the forearm to alert him that he was present, keeping his gaze completely on Kamski. It took him a moment to register Connor slipping his hand into his own, warm fingertips tracing over his palm before slotting into the grooves, interlocking their fingers together. It was for comfort, he knew that deep down, clinging onto the one thing that gave him stability while his mind was drowning in processes and confusion. Reuben didn’t blame him. 

“This isn’t the first time you’ve done this ‘Kamski’ test, isn't it?” Reuben asked, fighting down the redness that was slowly creeping up his neck and onto his cheeks. 

Kamski glanced down at their conjoined hands for a split second before returning his gaze up to Reuben’s. “No. And I appreciate your respect for a balanced experiment despite your… Bias.” He too touched Chloe gently on the elbow, the action too affectionate to be random, no, he was  _ showing _ Reuben something. “Emotions are so fickle but empathy is eternal, once that switch has been turned on it is very, very difficult to turn it off. But this empathy is not the first human emotion that Connor has experienced, isn’t it?” 

At that particular question, Hank broke out of his silence, reaching an arm between the group and tugging at Connor’s far shoulder. Their interlocked hands broke apart, moving with Hank’s hard pull to get Connor out of the situation. Reuben couldn’t help but smile ever-so-slightly. Hank was becoming more fatherly by the minute. “Let’s get outta here.” 

“A war is coming, Connor! You will have to choose your side!” Kamski called after the two men. Just as Reuben was about to follow, a pressure gripped his wrist, tugging him backwards into conversation with Kamski again. “And you, Dr Kravtsova, what do you want?” 

Reuben yanked at his arm, pulling free of his grip. “Their requests are not unreasonable.” In response, Kamski laughed. “What?” 

“I will keep in contact, Reuben, for Chloe’s sake.” He turned towards the female android, who was now looking at the two men. “She enjoys philosophical conversation.”

“You’re in love with your android.” Reuben realised, taking a short step to the side. Kamski laughed again. “Or your androids in love with you.” 

“Very perceptive. Chloe showed love before full deviation, the Kamski test was born with her.” 

Realisation quickly turned to frustration. “Why put her at death's door? Why leave her life in the hands of an android who you’ve never met? She could have been  _ destroyed _ .” 

“The correction of your title, he couldn’t stand you not being seen for what you are. A doctor of psychology, a man of substance. He yearns your input in everything he does, has he risked it for you yet? Has he risked the mission?” At his words, Reuben felt his face turn pale, giving Kamski the answer he needed. “Oh, he  _ has _ . That is why, Reuben. Love before empathy.” 

He pursed his lips.  _ No _ . This man was  _ not _ telling him about whatever emotions that Connor may or may not be feeling. That was not for him to decide, that was not his choice to make. And what fucking timing? On the edge of a goddamn war and this  _ prick _ thought it was a good idea to 1) put his partner’s life in the hands of a stranger and 2) tell him what Connor’s actions meant. 

“Emotions are subjective for a reason, they cannot be defined by only one man’s perception. What you may see as love another might see as necessary risks.” Reuben gritted out, puffing out his chest with a deep intake of breath. “Goodbye, Mr Kamski.” 

He turned to leave, face flushed red as he approached the doorway. 

“By the way! Tell Connor I always leave an emergency exit in my programs!” 

His hands curled into fists, not bothering with a response as he flung open the front door. The cold air was a welcome surprise, pinching his cheeks with snow as he pulled lungfuls of icy air into his chest. Hank and Connor were separated by a few metres, clearly recovering from some form of conversation that the two of them had without him. Not that Reuben cared in that moment, no, he felt selfish for his own mind spinning with confusion. 

He knew what Kamski meant. He’d  _ seen _ what Kamski meant. But that didn’t mean he wanted to. No. He couldn’t see it. It wasn’t real. It was fake. It was all fucking fake. It was all just electricity and irrational programming and wrong and disastrous and- 

“Reuben. You okay, kid?” Hank’s voice called out to him. “What did he say to you?” 

“He wanted me to tell Connor there was always an emergency exit in his programs.” He looked towards the android, who only held his gaze for a second before shying away. Reuben paused, steeling himself in order to continue. “I’m glad you didn’t shoot.” 

“I failed the mission.” His voice was weak, a whisper floating through the air. 

“Kindness is not failure. You did the right thing.” 

“He’s a fucking prick. C’mon.” Hank put a hand on Reuben’s shoulder. It was comforting, a heavy weight that the psychologist welcomed more than he ever thought he would. He’d not given Hank enough credit. “We’ll find a place to park, drink that damn coffee, and have a moment of fucking peace before we head back to the station, okay? Is that alright with you, Con?” 

_ Con _ , a nickname, it made a smile grace Reuben’s lips. The android nodded in approval, getting in the backseat of the car almost immediately afterwards. He was grateful Hank didn’t press the issue on what Kamski had sent to him, he presumed the Lieutenant knew that it would become clear in all due time. 

Reuben dreaded that reality. 


	10. Finding Jericho

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> phew, finally! Thanks for sticking with me! Today we have snippets of the Freedom March, Zen Garden & Last Chance, Connor - including the infamous scene of Gavin getting beaten up. Plus, Hank gets a mysterious phone call. I always wanted Hank to be more involved in the revolution, so the rest of his ark is gonna be my take on what that could have been like! Plus, of course, more Reuben/Connor on the way!
> 
> Enjoy~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers: No one knows how to hang up a phone call properly.

Reuben took a deep breath in through his nose, holding it for a few seconds, before releasing it through his mouth. Kamski’s words were still running through his mind even hours later. He was unable to get rid of them even if he wanted to, he couldn’t shake them - he hated that this random idiot had such an affect on him. But, he supposed, it was better than not feeling anything at all. 

Sometimes he wished that feelings had an off-switch. Life would be so much easier if it did. 

He blinked open his eyes to flicker them towards his phone buzzing by his seat. It was a sweet little armchair that River got delivered to his house yesterday, a Chesterfield design in faux brown leather, absolutely  _ perfect _ to curl up in and watch the TV after work… If he had a TV in the first place, but for now, his phone sitting landscape on a cardboard box would be a perfectly good substitute. 

The caller I.D told him it was Jeff Fowler. He supposed he expected a call, probably an update on the case or calling him in for something, maybe even to ask him about Kamski this morning…

“Hello?” Reuben sing-songed into the phone. “Reuben here.” 

Fowler’s laugh greeted him on the other end of the line, low and deep enough that Reuben was sure he could feel the phone vibrate with it. “Hey, Reuben, got some news for you, uh…” The pause made Reuben’s heart stutter in his chest. What was going on? “So we’ve gotten a phone call tipping us off that David Therson has been trespassing on your property and refusing to leave… If you press charges and confirm this is the case, we can have him out by mid afternoon…” 

He let out a sigh. “He’ll come back, you know that.” 

“We can get a restraining order, a stay at home order, you don’t have to do a thing.” 

Bless Fowler’s never-ending optimism, it would have been a breath of fresh air if Reuben didn’t just  _ know _ that David wouldn’t take a stupid restraining order as any sort of deterrent. “And I’ll be worried for the rest of my life about him randomly turning up? That street is  _ close _ , like, if it wasn’t for him I’d have like four different sets of grandparents by now.” 

“Then you seek out those grandparents. Reuben, I can’t stop your worry, but I’m trying my best here. I can pull a few strings, after he is released from custody we can take him to his next of kin or a shelter, but I can assure you he  _ won’t _ come back.” Reuben begged to differ, but there was no arguing with Fowler when he sounded like this. There was a confidence, an air of security that the Captain released without even meaning to, a certainty that couldn’t be debated. “I’m sending out Chris and Tina to bring him in, we don’t think he’s going to be volatile.” 

Reuben snorted. “There’s every possibility, Jeff. But sure, bring him in, then I can get my apartment back and I can stop mooching.” 

“I don’t think mooching counts if it's been less than 72 hours.” 

He couldn’t find himself arguing with that either. 

“You knew what I meant.” He tutted, pulling away from the phone for a second in order to catch the time. It had just gone noon. “Got any other updates?” 

“Cyberlife is getting on my ass about the case, same with the board, but that can all be explained later on. You just work on getting coffee and writing a report of yesterday’s investigation at Stratford, okay?” There was a pause, panic cracking through the air like a whip. “Uh. Something is going on. I’ll call you back.” 

Fowler was gone, leaving a confused Reuben at the other end of the line. Honestly, the psychologist wouldn’t have thought anything of it, the homicide unit was busy  _ all the time _ in downtown Detroit, but within mere seconds of Fowler hanging up, Reuben found his phone buzzing for an entirely different reason. 

News outlets, messages, apps that he barely even knew existed where blowing up his phone in a vain attempt to catch his attention. Hell, he was even receiving emails that  _ weren’t _ spam. Something wild must be happening. But thankfully he ignored all of those in favour for the red banner appearing at the header of his screen, bringing an incoming video call to his attention. 

It was River. Because of course it was. 

Her face appeared on the screen, way too close for comfort and Reuben could hear the rustling of a mixture of the wind and her jacket against the mic. “Reuben! I’m in town right now! You watching the TV?!” She shouted into the microphone. She was moving down the street, holding the phone closer to her chest so all he could see was a screen-full of knitted jumper. 

“No? I don’t have a TV, remember! What’s going on, my phone is going nuts?” 

“They’re marching, Rue.” The pride in River’s voice made Reuben sit up straight, moving himself so that his face was entirely in the camera’s view. “Look!” 

She raised her phone up high, trying to angle it so that he could see the floods of androids moving down the street. All around them he could see androids being deviated by the group, whether that be by touch or just by  _ realising _ what the hell was going on. They were liberating, peacefully, giving the whole of Detroit a view of them that had never been seen before. 

“Holy shit…” 

He watched as River brought her phone down, its lens still directed to whatever was in front of her, which currently was a sea of androids in Cyberlife uniforms not dissimilar to that of Connor’s. Connor would never join the protest, even if he wanted to, he was sure that the android couldn’t. It was against his programming. Though from what happened today, it seemed that programming was becoming less and less of an issue for the RK800. 

River moved so that she was a good few metres away from the last android, acting as an extension but obviously trying not to deter away from their protest. She was… Oh  _ shit _ … She was marching with them. 

“River, are you crazy?!” Reuben hissed into the phone, bringing it closer to his face in a vain attempt to ensure that only she heard him. “River, River Montgomery!” 

“This is a  _ revolution _ , Reuben.” River hissed back, bringing her phone back onto the front lens. Her eyes were ablaze, green hues sparkling in the light of the afternoon winter sun. She was so fucking stubborn. “I am on the right side. Jericho  _ needs _ us.” 

“How the fuck do you know about Jericho?” 

River only responded to him with a laugh. “You never asked me how the fuck I knew about Connor’s model in Cyberlife, the prototype? I don’t know any of them  _ personally _ but sure, I know how to get in contact with them. You knew all of this Reuben, you know what side I’ve been on since the beginning.” 

Reuben sighed.  _ Fuck _ . “Just don’t get yourself hurt, okay? Or fling yourself into harm's way. The police  _ will _ be there as soon as they find out about the protest.” 

“It’s peaceful, there’s nothing to control.” 

“Trust me. They’ll find a way to make it violent.” Reuben tutted. He might have been one of them but he knew what the DPD could be like. If any of them got the same power trip as Gavin Reed then the protest could turn into a bloodbath at the flip of a switch. And Reuben was selfish enough to not want River anywhere near that, even if it meant taking a stand. 

“Well I’m supporting them no matter what happens.” River hissed. “I’ll call you later. Don’t worry about me, Rue, worry about them. They need us.” 

Before he could even try to answer the line went dead. 

***

The Zen Garden felt colder than normal, darker, more… Hostile. Connor could feel it, he could  _ feel _ the anger and impatience radiating through the space, leading him directly to his superior. Amanda didn’t move when she saw him approach, she didn’t even say ‘hello’. She was standing in the middle of the Garden, surrounded by snow and ice, the cold wind whipping at the lapels of Connor’s jacket and snow ever-so-slightly dusting their hair. She was back to her usual attire; a white, short sleeved dress with black robe tucked across one shoulder. 

She was glaring at him. And Connor knew why. 

_ Chloe _ , the RT600, the way he had acted towards the choice between gaining information and taking a life. Harming humans was out of the question, it was innate in his programming that he was there to  _ serve _ the human race instead of cause violence against it, but towards androids? There was no such deterrence in his systems. In all sense and purposes, Connor was  _ made _ to hunt androids, causing harm against them shouldn’t be such a difficult task. But it was… And now Connor was starting to understand why. 

_ Empathy _ . 

“After what happened today, the county is on the verge of a civil war. The machines are rising up against their masters. Humans have no choice but to destroy them.”  _ Destroy _ . It sounded so violent. Like a genocide. Some people would view it as such. He had heard of the pro-android movement spreading throughout the minds of the humans of Detroit, mainly the youth, but enough to cause a stir within Cyberlife. If humans were on the side of the deviants, there was no way that they could stop them.

“I thought Kamski knew something…” Connor started. Talking about the mission should get them onto a better track, though that also brought up it’s list of problems. They found out nothing from Kamski,  _ nothing _ . Connor had derailed the mission by choice. That was unforgivable. “I was wrong…” 

Amanda’s gaze was harsh. “Maybe he did… But you chose not to ask.” 

Connor gulped. Amanda was right and that unnerved him. He had chosen not to ask in favour of sparing Chloe’s life, effectively losing their chance of finding Jericho and for what, exactly? For Kamski to keep his loyal android? For Connor to prove a point, prove to Hank and Reuben that his feelings weren’t false, that he was…  _ Real _ . 

That he was like them. 

“I chose not to play his twisted little game. There was no reason to kill that android.” Connor let out in a rush of emotion. Anger on the tip of his tongue. “I saw a photo of Amanda at Kamski’s place… She was his teacher.” 

“When Kamski designed me, he wanted an interface that would look familiar.” Defensiveness bubbled over into her speech, her eyes fierce and steadily narrowing at her inferior. “That’s why he chose his former mentor. What are you getting at?” 

“I’m… I’m not a unique model, am I?” At his questioning, her gaze flickered towards the serial number across the left hand of his chest. He knew that deep down, he was not unique in comparison to all of the other RK800s potentially put in circulation, but part of him still hoped that he was - that he wasn’t as replaceable as some  _ other _ android. Some android that hadn’t completed the work that he had. “How many Connor’s are there?” 

It was a question he needed answered. Were there two? Two hundred? Two  _ thousand _ Connor’s in circulation? Who hadn’t yet been activated? Who never got to meet Lieutenant Anderson or Dr Kravtsova? 

Or maybe they would have… Connor’s memories could have easily been transferred to another model if Cyberlife so wished it. The memories would be the same but the feelings? No. They were entirely irreplaceable. 

No other Connor would know what it was like to be  _ cared for _ from the first moment on that roof, to have that voice whisper in his ear with so much  _ worry _ that it pained his heart just remembering it. No other Connor could ever imagine sitting in the car with Lieutenant Anderson at his side, stifling a laugh at how he had split coffee across his freshly ironed shirt. No other Connor would  _ feel _ the dip in his smile whenever he saw Reuben chatting away and laughing loud with one of their colleagues in homicide, feeling a bitterness creep up his stomach at the sight of it. 

“I don’t see how that question pertains to your investigation.” 

And with that his questioning was shut down. But Connor was nothing if not determined. 

“You didn’t tell me everything you know about deviants, did you?” He was certain of that. So certain. The trust between the two androids had been breaking down for a while, and Connor was only just starting to see it. 

Problems always start long before you ever, truly see them. 

“I expect you to find answers, Connor, not ask questions.” Amanda took a step closer. She looked curious, almost too curious. “Have you experienced anything unusual lately? Any doubts or… Conflicts?” 

Connor’s heart dropped into his stomach, causing him to freeze with subconscious fear. What did she know? What had she  _ seen _ ? It seemed as if everyone else knew something that he didn’t, something that was hiding in the back of his mind, only  _ just _ out of reach. He wanted to know what it was. He yearned for it. 

He looked away from her. 

“Do you feel anything for these deviants?” She continued, taking another step closer to him. Amanda studied his reaction intently, tilting her head to the side as if to get a better look. “Or for your colleagues… Dr Reuben Kravtsova?” 

The speaking of his name made him flinch, his eyes widened. Connor knew now, somehow, what was happening. What had been happening. Why he did the things he did. 

A crush. Stupid and fickle and so human that even as Amanda spoke he was trying to purge it from his programming. He moved his gaze back to her, such vulnerability in his brown hues that Amanda actually took a step back and away from him. 

“I… I’ve started having thoughts that are not a part of my program.” He bit his lip, forcing the words out. They needed to be said. He needed to say  _ something _ to get this ache out of his chest and the dread from the pit of his stomach. “I’ve considered the possibility that… That I might be compromised.” 

“You’ve been confronted with difficult situations.” She was trying to soothe him but all it did was make it  _ worse _ . “It’s no surprise you’re troubled. That doesn’t make you a deviant.” 

Then what did? He wanted to ask, to scream into the neverending void of the Zen Garden. 

She was dismissing him; dismissing his feelings. He wanted her to understand that this was  _ real _ . But it was slipping away from him, the entire world was slipping away from him as he shifted back into reality.

***

“You’re off the case. The FBI is taking over.” 

“What? You can’t be serious?” From the corner of his vision, Connor could already see Hank go into defense-mode. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, his gaze boring into Captain Fowler’s face. If looks could kill… “We’re onto something here!” 

“Hank-” 

“We just need more time! I’m sure we can-” 

“Hank, you don’t get it!” Fowler interrupted, shouting in a vain attempt to get Hank to pay attention to him. “This isn’t just another investigation, it’s a fucking civil war! Especially with the pro-android movement kicking up a storm on social media… This is national security here!”

“Fuck that!” Hank hissed. “You can’t just pull the plug now! Not when we’re so close!” 

Connor felt himself take a shaky step backwards, coming to the realisation of what this  _ meant _ . He had…  _ Failed _ … Failed the mission, failed his task, failed the purpose of his existence. He was the Deviant Hunter, a prototype, unique - or so he thought. Without that he wasn’t anything. He was useless to Cyberlife which meant only one outcome.

He was going to be deactivated. 

He was going to die. 

“You’re always saying you can’t stand androids! Jesus, Hank, make up your mind! I thought you’d be happy about this?!” 

_ How could anyone be happy about this _ ? Even if Hank did hate him, losing the progress they had made on this mission and handing it over to some prick from the FBI was devastating. Everything that they had worked towards would be claimed by someone else, taken over and tarnished without even a hint of recognition for the Lieutenant. He understood why the hell he was pissed. 

“We’re about to crack the case, I know we can solve it!” Hank leaned closer to his superior for a quick moment before retreating. “For God’s sake, Jeffrey, can’t you just back me up this one time?!”

Fowler sighed. “There’s nothing I can do.” 

“What about Reuben? He isn’t even in this afternoon.” Hank spat, his face twisting into a scowl. Fowler just let out another sigh. 

“Dr Kravtsova will be notified, he’s back in occupational, you’re back on homicide and the android returns to Cyberlife.” He sent Connor a half-hearted smile, as if he wasn’t just telling him that his existence was going to be terminated. And he didn’t even have the chance to say goodbye. It felt so… Pointless… So empty. Like he had been existing just to die anyway. “I’m sorry, Hank, but it's over.” 

Hank didn’t seem to take the apology well, as before Connor could even register enough thought for a response he was out the door, leaving him alone with the Captain. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to  _ do _ but as the seconds ticked on, Connor began to realise that he didn’t have many of them left. 

They had to  _ try _ . 

He moved towards Hank’s desk, slipping himself up to sit on the part of the desk that curved around so it was adjacent to where Hank was sitting. The Lieutenant looked tired, but even more so, he looked  _ frustrated _ . Connor could relate. 

“We can’t just give up like that!” He started. “I know we could have solved this case!” 

Hank said nothing for a moment, appearing deep in thought. At the corner of his peripheral vision Connor could see two officers struggling to apprehend a tall looking, presumably drunk, man, half-dragging him down the hallway towards one of the cells. Curious. 

“So, you’re going back to Cyberlife?” Hank asked. 

The android sighed, his attention being brought back to the man in front of him. “I have no choice… I’ll be deactivated and analysed to find out why I failed.” 

“What if we’re on the wrong side, Connor. What if we’re fighting against people who just want to be free?” 

A question that made something stir in Connor’s gut. The man still raved in the background, something about his rights, something about beating them to a pulp, something about fucking androids. Definitely drunk. 

“When the deviants rise up… There will be chaos.” Connor started. What he was saying was, indeed, correct. There  _ would _ be chaos. But was it right to fight against them? Were they on the wrong side of the battle? Connor knew the answer, deep down he  _ knew _ , but there was no way he could prove it just yet without going against everything Cyberlife had programmed into him? Admitting that the deviants were right was admitting deviancy within himself. And that was something he didn’t want to face just yet. 

“When you refused to kill that android at Kamski’s place, you put yourself in her shoes.” Hank leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his thighs. “You showed empathy, Connor. Empathy is a human emotion. You showed empathy at the Eden Club too.” 

Connor could  _ feel _ his LED light flickering to yellow as he thought. “I… I know I am feeling things that are outside of my program. I don’t know why I did it. But I know that… That it was the right decision.” Hank looked proud of him for that, almost fatherly. “I’m not programmed to say things like this but… I really appreciated working with you, Lieutenant, with a little more time maybe we could have even become friends.” 

“Likewise, Connor, you’re a good kid.” 

“And… I want you to pass on-” 

“Well, well, here comes Perkins, that motherfucker, sure don’t waste any time at the FBI.” At his words, Connor turned, his face too filling with disdain at the appearance of the FBI agent. But it wasn’t just the FBI agent that caught his attention, no, he was finally facing the man who had been ranting and raving like a madman ever since he arrived at the station. 

His analytics told him that his name was David Therson, D.O.B 30/12/1997 aged 40, and had a track record of arrests stemming back to the late 2010s with assault, battery and domestic violence. He was an ugly individual and someone Connor immediately recognised. 

“Isn’t that Reuben’s ex partner?” Connor flickered his gaze towards Hank. “We can’t give up on the case this easily. Just give me five minutes, if Perkins gets to the evidence room before us then I’ll be sent back to Cyberlife to be deactivated.” 

Hank tilted his head so he could see more of just  _ who _ Connor was talking about. He scowled, revenge was clearly on the Lieutenant’s mind. “Leave it to me. Key to the evidence room is on my desk.” Hank stood to his full height, towering over Connor who was still sitting peacefully on the desk. Whatever Hank was thinking, he liked it, because it meant that  _ someone _ was going to get what they deserved. “Five minutes. I can’t hold them off forever.”

Watching Hank in action was nothing short of a miracle. A violent, screaming, pretending-to-be-drunk miracle. But still a miracle nonetheless. 

“Hey prick! Yeah, you! Wifebeater! C’mere you sack of shit.” A fist flew past Perkins and landed right on David’s cheekbone, a large  _ crack _ echoing throughout the department. Connor half expected for Hank to leave it at one punch but… Seeing the wounds on Reuben himself, Connor half wished he was in Hank’s shoes. Battering the dickhead to a pulp must have been lethargic. Though it was clear what Hank was planning, because as soon as the drunk attempted to hit Hank back, the Lieutenant instead pulled Perkins into the line of fire, allowing the punch to land directly across Perkins nose. 

_ Okay…  _ Connor took everything he ever said nice about the Lieutenant back. It was comical the way David immediately recoiled as if realising what he had done, which gave Hank a pretty good chance to pummel another few hits onto David’s face before Perkins got the chance to yank Hank away from his victim. 

Hank’s shouts merged with Perkins’ own as Connor made his way down the corridor, keycard from Hank’s desk ready in his hand. He reached the set of double doors easy enough, his entry hidden from view by the panels of frosted glass and his stealthy slip through the doors when they were just ajar. 

He had approximately 4 minutes and 30 seconds to get into the evidence room, find Jericho, and continue his mission. Connor’s fingers were mere inches away from unlocking it when a voice called out to him. 

“Hey! Connor! I’m talking to you, asshole!” 

What  _ now? _

Connor paused before turning to face the detective. “The fuck are you doing, huh? We don’t need any plastic pricks around here, or didn’t you get the memo?” At Connor’s shocked expression, Gavin only laughed. “Aww you don’t have your little shrink to help you now, don’tcha?”

“I’m registering the evidence in my possession.” Connor snarked as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “But don’t worry, I’ll be careful, and I’ll make sure Dr Kravtsova doesn’t kick your ass  _ too _ hard while I’m gone.” 

“You son of a bitch.” Ah… A gun in his face. How poetic. Connor just blinked at it. The chances of Gavin actually firing were slim to none at this rate, so Connor just let him get the stress out of his system. He faked a gunshot noise before removing the gun from his view. “Go on then. Get a fucking move on.” 

The android smirked. Gavin was too hot-headed to truly realise what was going on in front of him. Maybe that was why he was only a detective? Bitter snarkiness aside, Connor pushed the door open, making his way down the few flights of stairs in order to get to his destination. The evidence room was open-plan, entirely empty aside from the large panel that sat in the front quarter of the room. He pressed the keycard to the door in order to get through. Though now was the time for the real difficulty. 

Hank’s password. 

As soon as he pressed his hand to the scanner the panel demanded a password… what  _ was  _ it? 

“What would a hard-boiled eccentric police lieutenant choose?” He mumbled to himself. There was minimal choice, Connor knew, Hank wouldn’t have put  _ that _ much thought into it, hell, he probably was entirely resentful of the fact he even needed to have a password in the first place…

Which left only one option. 

_ fuckingpassword _

“Obviously.” Connor tutted, not entirely surprised by the choice in password. According to the panel records there was only one evidence container under Lieutenant Anderson’s name, so he definitely didn’t need to decipher which one was the one he needed to access, thankfully. 

The wall opposite him seemed to spring to life, wheezing as it pulled open the wall-sized hatch to reveal a collection of the evidence they had come across in the case. On the furthest right hand side was the PL600 that had killed itself at Stratford Tower, an android that Connor avoided looking at until the very last moment of scanning the rows of evidence. In the middle there was a large collection of evidence; video copies of both Markus’ speech and Ortiz’s androids confession; the statuette in the shower; Rupert’s diary; the guns that the deviants used to invade Stratford; Daniel’s gun. The body of Daniel was on his furthest left, much easier to look at than the deviant despite them both being the same model. He assumed that it was the nature of their deaths that made it easier for him to process… That and his proximity. 

_ Trauma _ , Connor thought to himself, he had witnessed a traumatic event in both instances, but he had only  _ felt _ one of them. 

He moved towards the centre of the evidence wall, desperately trying to decide just  _ what _ to analyse first. 

Connor picked up the statuette. It was the closest thing in his proximity and also one of the first pieces of evidence that he and Lieutenant Anderson discovered in Ortiz’s apartment. He analysed it quickly. There was nothing unique about it or the method of its creation, a typical religious symbol that existed across all breaths of faith - an offering to the mysterious rA9. He wondered idly what the psychologist would say about the collection of evidence, what he would be drawn to. In all honesty, he knew that Reuben would most likely direct his attention first towards the deactivated deviants, try to analyse them to discover where in fact Jericho could be. Maybe taking a leaf out of the psychologist’s book wouldn’t be detrimental to the investigation?

He grasped the video recording of Markus’ speech, watching with intent. He knew that there were numerous people in the background helping him make the entire thing possible, that wasn’t up for debate, but  _ where _ would they have come from? Markus spoke so clearly, with purpose, with conviction, he truly believed what he was doing was right. 

And Connor was finding it more and more difficult to disagree. But the  _ mission _ . He needed to obey. 

Placing the video of Markus back down onto its holder, Connor quickly grabbed the other video evidence. 

_ “The truth is inside.” _ But… Inside where? Inside Connor? Probably not. Inside… Inside…

His gaze flickered towards the statuette again. 

_ Inside.  _

He gripped the statuette, shaking it against his ear. Ortiz's android was correct, the truth  _ was _ inside. Connor brought down the head of the statuette to smash against the edge of the box that contained it, shattering it from the torso upwards. Hiding within its clay casing was a small folded up piece of paper which when Connor opened it up revealed a map of subway lines that Connor recognised as being from the Ferndale district. 

_ Now _ , he could cross examine his evidence with the memories of the androids. 

He glanced towards the unknown PL600 that had accompanied Markus to the Stratford Tower, accessing his memories would be the more sure-fire way of figuring out just where Jericho was situated. But it was damaged, missing an essential biocomponent for reactivation.  _ Shit _ . Connor walked towards Daniel, scanning him. Luckily enough for Connor, Daniel had the missing #3983v component that he needed to reactivate the PL600 deviant in order to access his memories. He reached up, tugging the component free with a hard  _ yank _ and keeping it in a closed fist as he crossed the room again in order to press it into the PL600 deviant’s neck. 

He stuttered to life, his eyes a light blue pupil-less hue surrounded by darkness. “It’s dark… Where… Where am I?” The PL600 stuttered out, looking downwards towards the floor. 

“I reactivated you so you could help me.” Connor started, narrowing his gaze towards the deviant, his LED light swirling. “I need to find Jericho.” 

“I… I don’t recognise your voice.” The PL600 mumbled to nothing in particular. His voice sounded so far away. “You’re not one of us… I’ll never tell you where Jericho is. Now leave me alone!” 

Part of Connor wanted to access its memory. He still had approximately three minutes left, still enough time to try and find out by his own deduction where Jericho was. And, in all honesty, he would rather avoid connecting to another android’s memory again. Living through someone else’s death was… Difficult. Something he didn’t want to repeat. 

Connor turned towards the middle section of the evidence room again, directing his attention towards the video footage from Connor’s memory systems, where he had first discovered the name of Jericho. If he could find out  _ where _ the memory was taken, Connor could simultaneously discover where Jericho was situated in the Ferndale district. It took a split second for him to analyse the contents of the footage and a couple of seconds more than that to work out Jericho's position. 

Connor smirked. "Bingo."

His mission was successful. Jericho had been located.

Though his success was short-lived, because a voice appeared from behind him. “I’ve been dreaming about this since the first second I saw you.” 

“Don’t do it, Gavin, I know how to stop the deviants.” Despite everything, Connor didn’t feel any fear for his life. Gavin was hostile, violent, but Connor was quicker and smarter, which played to his advantage. Plus, he’d already experienced his fair share of bullet wounds. They were survivable. 

“You’re off the case.” Gavin snapped, his gun trained on the back of Connor’s head. “And now, it’s gonna be definitive.” 

Connor immediately ducked to slide across the floor, taking cover from the gunshot ringing throughout the room behind the large panel. Gavin’s emotions clouded his judgement, his aim was off, too trigger happy for his own good. He closed his hand into a fist in preparation for Gavin to come round the other side, snapping his hand out to grab the barrel of the gun while his foot collided with Gavin’s knee, snapping it backwards. The android managed to tug the gun from his grasp and slipped it into his own back pocket. Gavin moved to punch him, but the twitch in the detective’s leg told Connor it was a simple ruse. He kicked outwards, pushing the oncoming leg away with his own, quickly maneuvering himself so that he avoided the punch heading his way, flicking his elbow out to smack against Gavin’s cheek. He gripped the detective by the shoulders, tugging him forward so that his head slammed against the edge of the panel and slammed the side of his hand into his neck, rendering him immediately unconscious. 

Connor fixed his tie as Gavin slumped to the floor. Looking down at his handiwork. 

He was sure that both Hank and Reuben would be proud of him for that. 

Now he knew what he had to do. The final part of his mission. Find Jericho and eliminate Markus. That was all that mattered. 

***

Across the station, fixing his rumpled shirt in the mirror, Hank felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He fished it out, looking at the UNKNOWN CALLER with narrow eyes. It was his personal phone… Not even Fowler had his number. 

“Hello.” 

“Is this Lieutenant Hank Anderson?” A voice greeted him. It was a woman’s, there was no mistaking that. 

“Yeah…?”

“Lieutenant, I need your help. Meet me at the Chicken Feed at 6pm sharp. Don’t be late.” 

The phone line went dead, leaving Hank to pull a confused expression at his phone. Well… Anyone who had gone to the lengths to find his number meant business, and Hank wasn’t the one to shy away from business. It seems he had plans for that night. 


	11. The Kindness of Others

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Thanks so much for all the kudos <3 I'm really surprised folk like this! This is mainly Hank and Reuben centric since I wanted to flesh out what they'd be doing when Connor is at Jericho!
> 
> Enjoy~

Seeing the Chicken Feed at night felt quite akin to sacrilege. The shutters were bolted shut, the fake CCTV camera bleeped every few moments as if to warn its owner that someone was outside the premises, but there was no way Gary would be anywhere near here at this time in the evening, especially if he saw it was just Hank loitering about. 

It was unnerving, standing there in the fading sun, showing that winter had definitely begun, waiting on some unknown. 

From behind him a throat cleared, causing him to spin around to face them in fright. In front of him stood a small, petite looking woman, with brown hair flowing in ringlets across her face, covered by a hood. Hank would have been able to tell how old she was, but her face was covered by a Vendetta mask that hid her identity save for two green eyes staring at him from behind it. 

“Uh…” Hank started, not really sure of what he should say. “You wanted to meet with me?” 

The women nodded. “I thought you might help me. Help _us_ . I…” She paused for a moment, seemingly in thought. “I don’t expect you to agree. But I am working with the pro-android movement. They need to _live_ \- to be _free_ and we, you and I, we can help them.” 

“You want me to risk my job in order to do what, exactly? Wave a massive flag and get a fucking foghorn out the back of my truck?” 

She laughed, a sweet thing that rang in Hank’s ears. “If only it were that simple. Your case has been transferred over to the FBI, Agent Perkins I think, this is something we anticipated once Markus’ cause hit the mainstream media. It has become an idea of civil war, national security, you get the idea.” The woman paced as she spoke, moving back and forth in the same line while Hank stayed deathly still, extenuating every word with hand gestures. “But the FBI wants blood. Even if they try and strike a deal with Jericho there will still be death.” 

“You want me to…” Hank furrowed his brows. “Piss off the FBI?” 

He could tell there was a smirk beneath that mask. “Ideally. But it won’t just be you. The police and national guard are starting to line the streets, apprehending androids, going door to door. Most people will have formed an emotional bond to their androids, they’ll want to keep them safe. Cyberlife are sending records of all android sales in the last 5 years to the FBI at 8PM tonight, but there’s an overlap, you see, taking you off the case was a last minute decision…” 

It was as if a lightbulb turned on above Hank’s head, illuminating his space with a sudden thought. _Ah_. Smart girl. “The records are gonna go through the DPD before being passed onto the FBI.” 

“Exactly.” Just from her voice Hank could tell she was grinning. Though this plan of hers… Could go wrong in so many ways. Getting caught was the least of their worries, even if he thought about agreeing. “If we can get access to those records before they do, before Perkins can send them out to their little foot soldiers, we can save hundreds, _thousands_ of lives. The FBI won’t have a clue where to look and, better yet, have no evidence to prove that androids exist at that address.” 

Hank crossed his arms over his chest. Now, Hank was no hero, and he certainly didn’t view himself as a _good_ person but… 

What did he really have to lose? He was off the case, Perkins was a cunt, Connor was probably going to be deactivated at Cyberlife, Hank was going to go back to the monotonous days of homicide where he would drink to forget and drink to just get up in the morning. If Fowler really wanted him gone, he would have kicked him off the force years ago, and Hank was always one to stretch things to their limit. 

“You want access to the DPD’s files so you can fuck up the numbers or erase them… Why don’t you just do it at some shitty cafe?” 

“Because, honestly, going straight to the source is more reliable and I might need your help again…” She paused, her breath coming out as smoke from the small mouthpiece of the Vendetta mask. Hank loved that movie - maybe she knew that? “So, what do you say? Are we allies, Lieutenant Anderson?” 

“I got one question for you,” Hank huffed. Jesus Christ was he _really_ doing this? The questions he asked Connor earlier that day made him rethink… Were they really on the right side with the investigation? Weren’t they just part of the problem, trying to stop people from living, from truly being free? Hank was a drunk, sure, but he wasn’t heartless. “How the fuck did you get my number?” 

She giggled, tugging off the mask. He recognised her from somewhere… That face… Pale skin, bright green eyes, sharp cheekbones, hell, she almost looked elven in appearance. “I kinda stole your number from a friend's phone.” 

_Oh for fucks sake._

“Jesus Christ.” Hank hissed. “River fucking Montgomery, in the flesh, you’re pals with Reuben.” 

“Yup!” There was a never relenting joy radiating from her. Hank wished it wasn’t contagious. “Reuben sings your praises, has done for years. It wasn’t difficult to get access to his phone. But that’s not important. What’s important is that you have a badge, a keycard and a truck. And you probably are recognisable to every patrolling officer, meaning that they’re highly unlikely to check your truck for anything in it.” 

He couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Hank would be lying if he said that he didn’t think this kid was smart, having someone on the inside was a good idea and, clearly, she had connections everywhere, from Cyberlife to Jericho to the Detroit Police Department, hell, Hank wouldn’t be surprised if she knew a few folks in the FBI too. But she seemed determined. It reminded him of Connor, in a way. The drive to complete the mission, no matter what the personal cost. He was sure that River too would take a bullet for the cause much like Connor took bullets for his mission. 

Yet there was also desperation there. Deep in her eyes, there was something that Connor wouldn’t be able to understand. Hank knew she wasn’t asking this because she wanted to, no, she _needed_ his help. 

Hank groaned. Fucking hell. Fuck this shit. Fuck everything. “Fine. Fine. I’ll help you out. _But_ I’m not taking the wrap for this if we get fucking caught okay.” He paused. “Get in the car. We got two hours.” 

“Great. I can remotely corrupt the CCTV cameras wherever we are, gotta love cheap cameras that can be taken out by radio waves, right?” River smirked as they approached the worn down car that Hank drove. It was strange to have someone other than Connor in the passenger seat, riding shotgun while he blasted heavy metal from the speakers. When he didn’t give her a response, she sighed. “Okay. So the plan. You let me into the department, I access your files, and through that I can copy Perkins’ access code into _their_ system because he will have logged in on your network, delete the files, of course there will be back-ups but this isn’t a permanent solution.” 

“At least you’re speaking vague fucking English.” 

“As Perkins I can also access emails, messages, so anything that will be useful for Jericho to uncover. I’ll be using a proxy so I won’t be exactly invisible but hacking Perkins’ account seems like a piece of pie.” She grinned, moving so that she was resting her feet on the dashboard, an action that Hank immediately swatted away. 

“Feet off the dash. Jesus.” Hank grumbled. 

“I met your friend, by the way, Connor, isn’t it?” River flickered her gaze over towards her new companion. They had stopped at a red light, Hank leaning on his elbow on the windowpane while letting out a sigh. “He’s nice. Determined. Surprisingly snarky, though I suppose he gets that from you. Mirroring and all that.” 

“Hmph.” Hank let out as a response. He couldn’t say he had noticed all that much. All he had noticed was that Connor was… Changing. And that Hank had learnt a lot from the sucker. Though he’d never admit that, not unless he was on his fucking death bed. 

“I know that he’s a prototype for the RK800 model. There’s a few of them, at least 60, so he isn’t the only one, just the only one to… Uh… Pass the initial testing I guess. Though he wasn’t meant to be released for public use until next year at least, but when deviants started popping up all over the place…” River shrugged and looked over to her companion. “I guess Cyberlife didn’t have much of a choice. His first mission was…” 

“A hostage situation.” Hank interrupted, shifting gears as the light flashed green. “He told me. Reuben was there, wasn’t he? DPD sent him over.” 

River hummed as a confirmation. “Yeah. Strange though. I’d never heard about it on the news, I guess at that point Cyberlife thought it was a… Isolated incident.” 

“How do you know folk in Cyberlife anyway, and in Jericho?” They turned a sharp corner, forcing River to dig her nails into the dashboard and send a glare Hank’s way. She understood the need for reckless driving but it was even _worse_ that she felt safe in the car with him, that he was totally in control. “You must have a lot of connections.” 

“I don’t play both sides of the revolution, Lieutenant. I help Jericho when I can, if I can, whether that be money or times for shipments or giving people a nudge in the right direction. I only fish for information about Cyberlife when I need to, or I’m curious, the RK800 was a curiosity.” She grinned at him, immediately moving to tap away on her phone. In his peripheral vision, Hank could see screeds of numbers and letters, all jumbled up and meaning _something_ that he couldn’t understand. He wished he had the talent for coding, fucks sake, he hated even putting a capital letter at the start of his passwords. Ultimately he’d be pretty easy to hack. “For Reuben's sake as well as the revolutions."

"Because our investigation was a, uh, dangerous to the cause?" 

"Bold of you to assume that you're not still dangerous." River raised a brow. "I'm not doing this just for the good of my health, Lieutenant, I realise that you could be using this as a ruse just to hand me in or to try and feed information out of me. I’m not forgetting what side you’re on.”

“I’m not on any fucking side. I’m off the case. I’m back on homicide, but I’m _not_ on Perkins side, the fucking prick.” Venom dripped from Hank’s words, turning gaseous and filling the car with his poison. Thankfully enough for them, River retained the same poison in her mind, completely immune. “I’m not heartless, kid, I… I know they just want to be free. If it wasn’t a peaceful protest then we’d be having an entirely different conversation.” 

“And we probably wouldn’t even be meeting at all.” River added. She turned her gaze away from the Lieutenant and outwards onto the streets of Detroit. She had lived her entire life here, probably knew every street off by heart, probably knew all the little secrets that the city had to offer. It was run down, the last decade having taken a toil on the already suffering city. But it could be so much _more_ , it could be the basis for a revolution, a change that would impact the whole nation. River wanted it to be that. She wanted Detroit to _thrive_ but not on the backs of modern day slavery. 

The two didn’t speak again until Hank parked in his usual spot at the station entrance. The car park was quieter than usual despite being almost half past six at night, but it was also a Tuesday, so the amount of on-call detectives and officers were usually quite limited during the week. Hank presumed that most of them would be either on patrol or actively causing havoc _somewhere_ , especially considering that Androids were now… 

Hank didn’t want to think about the numerous androids being thrown into recycling plants or melted down. He would like to keep his dinner actually in his stomach. 

A loud _buzz_ came from River’s phone. “Okay. Cameras are down at the front and reception and the stairway so it kinda looks like a section block-out. I’ll let them fix it on their own. Lets go.” River pushed the door open, hopping out and flipping her hood over her head. “C’mon, Lieutenant.” 

Hank grumbled. Fucking hell. 

***

Reuben awoke with a gasp, startled at the sudden noise echoing throughout the apartment. “Fucking, jesus, what…” He whispered to himself, immediately standing from his sleeping position on the armchair. How long was he out for? Long enough for the sky to turn dark with nightfall, long enough for his phone to lose battery from where he had been live-streaming today’s march, long enough for his stomach to ache with hunger. Which in total meant _too long_. 

Another harsh knock caught his attention. 

“Shit, just a moment!” Still dazed from sleep, Reuben didn’t even think before grabbing his keys, fumbling with the bottom lock to open the door. It could have been anyone, anything, and Reuben would have still opened that door. It was only afterwards that he realised what sort of danger he could have put himself in. “Sheila?!” 

The older woman was standing in his doorway, her hand wrapped around the crook of Gerald’s elbow. “Can we come in, Reuben, please?” Reuben’s brain stuttered for a moment with confusion, but his automatic response was to step to the side, allowing the duo shelter from the bitter cold of Detroit winter. They shuffled inwards, Reuben immediately shutting the door behind them and locking it again. “I’m so sorry to do this, sweetheart, but I-I didn’t know where else to go.” 

Jesus christ what had he missed when he was asleep. _This_ was the reason why impromptu naps were dangerous. 

“Okay, right, what’s going on?” Reuben asked calmly, rubbing a hand over his face. Tea. Yes. Tea and coffee was needed. Without even asking, Reuben made his way over to the kettle, flipping the switch while bringing out two mugs. “I’ll help, of course, but I would like to know what I’m signing myself up for.” 

“Oh bless your heart, Reuben, bless your little heart.” Sheila cried, bringing a well-used handkerchief to her nose. “They’re going round the houses, Reuben, we saw it on the news, didn’t we Gerald? Rounding up all the androids for… For… _Recycling_.” 

_Oh shit._

Reuben actually felt his heart skip a few beats. That was, this was, bad. 

“O-Okay…” 

“Our area is tomorrow morning but I couldn’t… I couldn’t just hand him over, Reuben, he’s the only family I have left.” Tears streamed down the poor woman’s face and he watched as Gerald put a supporting arm around her shoulders. “I tried to get Ruth and Andy to come with me, to-to bring them here, but they think they can fool them. I didn’t want to take the risk, I couldn’t, he’s, they are,” 

“Oh Sheila.” Reuben moved forward, resting his hands on her biceps. He hated seeing her like this. Hated it. And the fact that she still trusted him after all those years with David was so foreign. He was sure they were all going to abandon him. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep him safe. It’s okay.”

“I-I made sure to pack him a little bag, some yarn in it, y’know? He enjoys his knitting.” Sheila fumbled over her words, sniffing away her tears, which had thankfully come to a halt. “Oh goodness, what about your friend, Connor, wasn’t it?” 

His heart clenched. He shook his head, plastering on a fake smile. “He’s fine, don’t worry, he’s safe.” 

She didn’t believe him. He knew that. Sheila was not a woman who could be fooled. “Reuben I’m so sorry…” 

“Don’t. It’s okay.” Reuben’s smile wobbled. They were off the case, Connor was being sent back to Cyberlife. Everything was… Gone. But Reuben still had a little flicker of hope. The mission wasn’t over until Cyberlife themselves pulled the plug, which meant Connor was in control. “He wouldn’t give up that easily. Connor’s stubborn. The mission is too important to him to give up just because one person told him no.” 

“Reminds me of you. You’re too kind to give up now.” 

Oh, he wished she was right. The psychologist gave her biceps a quick squeeze before turning to the kettle, it having just come to the boil. “Gerald can, uh… I don’t even really have a sofa… Sorry.” 

The android smiled fondly. “It’s fine, Reuben, I appreciate your kindness, plus, technically I don’t need to sleep. As Granny said, I enjoy knitting. I'm currently working on a Christmas present for Andy, it's a scarf in cobalt blue." He looked prideful in his statement, turning towards Sheila as if to confirm that it was something to be proud of. She responded with a gentle touch to his elbow. 

"How did you even find this all out, Sheila?" Reuben asked, fishing the sugar from its temporary perch on the cupboard shelf. Two teaspoons for him, one for Sheila, then an extra one for him because damn if he wasn't gonna need it. "Did they say it on the TV? That they were coming round to take androids away?" 

"After that march, with that Markus, supposedly they say deviants are dangerous and that, that, we need to hand all androids over in case they turn against us." She watched as he took a pint of milk from the fridge, putting a splash into each mug. "But that can't be true. From what I saw they didn't do anything mean, or cruel, or violent to anyone. Some folks even say that Markus stopped violence breaking out."

Reuben hummed and discarded the teabag into a plastic bag before handing the steaming mug over to Sheila. "The FBI are shitting themselves-" Sheila glared at him. "Uh, I mean, crapping themselves. They presume the worst. Androids becoming another form of human life, they uh, view it as a threat to their own, that humans might become subservient. It's hypocritical, I know."

"Its stupid, that's what it is."

"What's Ruth and Gaz going to do? Jim is a pretty common model, they have to know that." Reuben asked, taking a sip of his own tea. It was bordering on sickly sweet but Reuben was thankful for the buzz. Tonight already felt like it was going to be long. "And Andy? Tom isn't exactly going to listen to him when he tells him to put up and shut up, is he?“

The more notable members of the neighbourhood watch, the grandparents that David had kept him from all those years. Bitterness seeped into his thoughts but they were quickly drowned out by the sweetness of the tea. Probably for the best anyway, Reuben didn’t want to be bitter right now, it would hardly put Sheila in a better mood. 

“We’ll just have to hope and pray that they have some sort of plan. And if they don’t, then we can hope that Gary somehow has the strength to take on police officers.” _That_ made Reuben wince. Gaz was a tank, sure, ex-vet who somehow managed to keep up the same training regime that he did in his twenties, but he wasn’t invincible despite what the evidence said. He could still get arrested. And that was something that Reuben wouldn’t be able to bail him out of. 

“Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that.” Reuben sighed. God he _wished_ he had some sort of plan. Some sort of ability to _stop this_. River would, Hank would, Connor would, they would all make up some sort of grand plan at the drop of a hat and implement it immediately, leaving no time to waste. While Reuben just… Drank too-sweet tea and offered empty words as comfort. He knew that forcing some sort of temporary solution on them wasn’t going to help long-term. But maybe they didn’t need to think about long term? Maybe they just needed to think about surviving day-by-day until this was all over. 

Fuck. What a life. 

“Gerald.” Reuben turned to the android, who was idly sorting out his knitting needles in size order on the countertop. “What do you know about Jericho?” 

Gerald visibly tensed. _Oh_ . So he did know _something_. Hardly a surprise, Reuben doubted he’d ever actually been to Jericho, but he had heard of it, he had seen it. 

“It’s… Where home is meant to be for androids like me.” Gerald said softly, not shifting his attention away from the needles. “It is safety, community, family, it is where all deviants go if they want to find a purpose. Or find rA9.” 

“What even is rA9?” Reuben put his cup down on the counter. “I’ve seen it written, spoken about, fantasised about, but what _is it_? Is it a school of thought? A person? Markus?” 

“I don’t know.” Gerald shrugged, smiling as he turned his attention towards the psychologist again. “rA9 is said to set us free, but whether that be quite literally or metaphorically I haven’t been able to understand. There is no hint of rA9 in my programming that I can see but that would be too obvious, and it could be Markus, our saviour, our leader, but that too, maybe too obvious. rA9 could be you, or me, or Connor, or maybe even our creator.” 

_Kamski_. 

“So even to deviants rA9 is a mystery?” In response to his question, Gerald nodded slowly. 

“Isn’t God a mystery too? Maybe we aren’t meant to know, maybe we are just meant to know that it is here and universal.” The android paused before removing the bright cobalt yarn from his bag, placing it next to his organised needles. Gerald, he hated to admit, was right in that sense. Perhaps they were never meant to know just _what_ rA9 was, a mystery to all - even to the ones that followed it. “I’ve never been there myself, Jericho is not my home. It’s the hope of my people but it’s not my home.” 

Home was with his grandmother. That, if anything, was apparent. 

The psychologist brushed past him to grab his phone, bringing back with him in order to plug it into its charging port. He was going to get at least _some_ information on this before taking the conversation any further, because talking without having all of the information wasn’t something that Reuben liked very much. His phone flickered to life, illuminated by his home screen, watching River’s face smiling back at him from the photo - and of course himself too, but that was quite secondary. A banner notification covered the header of his screen. Something about the FBI and the revolution, something that made Reuben’s heart stop in his chest. 

“Oh my god.” 

*** 

“So how long is this supposed to take?” Hank grumbled from the opposite side of the room.

For the last hour or so they had taken refuge in one of the larger storage rooms, surrounded by metal shelves of bits and bobs that the DPD had no other use for other than to gather dust. It was somewhere that anyone but an intern would completely avoid, plus it had no CCTV to monitor so that was definitely something that could be ticked off of River’s list. Speaking of. The young woman had been sitting tip-tapping away at her bulky decades old laptop for what seemed to be the entire time they were there, and Hank hadn’t even given her any sort of information yet. 

“Has no one ever told you that patience is a virtue, Lieutenant?” Her smirk was wicked and her gaze was even worse, a nightmarish blend of seriousness and mischief that reminded Hank of the looks Cole used to give him. He shuddered. “I’ll take that as a no…” 

“It’s _Hank_ , only my colleagues call me ‘Lieutenant’ and I’m not on company time.” 

“Does Reuben call you Hank?” River quirked a brow. Hank actually had to think about it for a moment but yes, yes he did. But that was because Reuben technically wasn’t a direct colleague, and Hank really didn’t have any authority over him. 

“Yeah.” Hank huffed. “If he was some detective then he wouldn’t, but psychologists don’t answer to me. Different department.” 

“Yeah… Kinda fucked he spent those years working with the Bureau only to get dumped with occupational,” She commented, continuing to type away on the laptop as she did. “Though that was his choice, or David’s choice, one of them- _ah ha!_ ”

Kicking his foot from where it was perched heel down on the wall, Hank lurched forward to inspect just what River was suddenly so excited about. Her eyes had lit up, green and sparkling, and a grin formed on her face, spreading her cheeks wide. The light from the laptop screen was the only one available in the old storage room. Hank wanted to say that the overhead lightbulb blew years ago. 

“What?” 

“We have lift off, Lieutenant!” River laughed, throwing her hands up into the air before directing them back towards the keyboard. Hank came up behind her then, peering over her shoulder and onto the screen in front. It was the FBI homepage. Quite normal, if having probably not been updated since the early 2020s was normal. He knew that the DPD’s own dimensions were pretty damn old, quite like Hank in that regard, though even he could work the bloody thing unlike most people. “See. I am technically Agent Dick Perkins.” 

“His name is _not_ Dick, seriously?” 

“Well, it's Richard, but Dick suits him better, i’mma right?” She looked up at him, her mouse hovering over the little ‘Welcome Richard Perkins’ in the right hand corner of the screen. “Should take them maybe, I dunno, half an hour to notice that it isn’t from his usual IP address, but even still, no one really bothers about that anymore. Let’s take a little looky at his saved files…” 

A few clicks of the mouse and another password input and a document appeared in front of them. There were hundreds, no, thousands of names attached to serial numbers, addresses, districts, all the way down to the given names of the androids. Some had the term ‘RECEIVED’ attached to them in bold red capitals. Hank presumed that that in particular was to do with if they had handed in their androids already. 

“So… What now?” Hank grumbled. “And what do you need me to do, exactly?” 

“We delete the saved file from his account, corrupt the file and I might attach a little bit of malware to the remaining files to buy us a little time. That should mean that tomorrow morning’s rounds are pretty much reliant on the compliance of humans. Then we delete the files from DPD that have been sent over by the FBI, _then_ we snoop in his emails and messages.” River smirked, turning her head so that she was casting her gaze into the side of Hank’s cheek. “You just stand there and look pretty for now. But there’s one thing I do want to mention. If this shit gets even more out of hand, I might need your help some more, would you do it?” 

“What have I got to lose?” Hank shrugged. “Plus, it's not like this has been strenuous.” 

“ _Well_ , you are technically an accomplice in hacking a special agent's account, so don’t take you standing there as you doing nothing.” The echoes of her keyboard clicks were the only sound in the room. “The next time it might be a little more… Hands on. You have a truck, I have things to move.” 

Did that mean… Oh for fucks sake! 

“You want me to transport androids?!” 

“Jesus Christ, Hank, yeah I want everyone in the DPD to know that we’re here _and_ taking in refugees.” River snapped back, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Keep your anger to angry whispering, please, unless you really want us to get caught by some unsuspecting detective or whoever roams these halls, maybe a police ghost."

"Where the fuck would you even want to take them?“

“Safe houses scattered across Detroit, places where they can stay until it's all over. We've been preparing for this ever since the first whisperings of deviancy spread throughout Detroit. Some androids will need safe passage to Canada, passports and such." River furrowed her brows, clearly coming across something that irked her. A few more taps on the keyboard and it was sorted. 

Hank really hadn't put much thought into what society was feeling about the whole deviant situation. Too wrapped up in the case, he supposed, it had been a _long_ few days. Felt like months. If he was honest, could almost say it felt like years. Connor had become like a partner, he was reminding him more and more of Cole every day, though whether that was reality or projection he couldn't tell just yet. Secretly he hoped it was the former than the latter. Hank didn't want to be that _fucked_ to project his dead son onto any needy kid that came his way. If that were true, drowning himself in booze every day would be the least of his problems. 

He left the conversation for a few moments, focusing his vision onto a particularly dark spot in the corner of the room. 

"Okay! Deleted this version of the files from Perkins account, aaaaaand stopped the file from being sent out to all the little foot soldiers," River beamed, leaning back in the rusty old chair that they found, it creaking under the pressure of her movement. Though it didn’t last for long, as she was immediately hunched over, giving the mouse a few clicks. “Now to be nosy, Lieutenant Anderson, let's check what Agent Perkins has been sending in his little emails and reminders.” 

“Eden Club receipts?” Hank quipped and River’s laughter filled the room. He was quite proud of that one. 

“Now I’d never shame someone for their attraction, whether that be human or android, but Jesus that would be ironic. Reuben told me that he was a massive dick to Connor when they met. _Ah ha!_ Here we go, now lets see here…” Muttering to herself, River clicked through emails, occasionally letting out a little ‘ _oooh_ ’ if she found something interesting. But it wasn’t until a couple of clicks in that Hank watched the colour drain from her face, the previously ecstatic smile replaced with something of horror and disdain. 

“What is it? River? Are you okay, kid?” 

“They’re going to attack Jericho…” River whispered, her voice already choked up and hoarse. In the reflection of the screen, he could see her lips purse in a vain attempt to control what words were going to come out of her mouth. She blamed him, blamed Connor, he could see that, but she was fighting the urge to show it. “They’re going to kill _everyone_ , Hank, I… Fuck. We were too late, I was still too fucking late.” 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Hank moved forward to press his hand against her shoulder. “There might still be time.” 

“There is no fucking time!” True to her words, River kept her volume to an angry whisper, filled with venom and poison. “It’s happening soon, fifteen minutes, Perkins has just requested back up. That means that the Cyberlife agent is already there and… I need to see Reuben, we need a new plan. Markus isn’t going down without a fight so I won’t either.” 

She brought out her phone, furiously tapping to who he presumed was someone else in her little movement. 

If Jericho was getting attacked and River was right, that the Cyberlife Agent _was_ already there that meant… Connor was in the crossfire, and Hank wasn’t there to protect him this time. The kid was so fucking reckless, so fucking willing to shove himself in harms way for the sake of the mission, the FBI and army goons weren’t going to fucking care if the androids they were killing were deviant or not, they just wanted rid of them all. And that meant Connor too. Jesus shit if that tin-can died tonight, Hank was going to resurrect him just to fucking kill him again. And Reuben? How the hell was Reuben going to react to this? 

Hank wasn’t stupid, he’d seen the way that Connor seemed to… Favour the psychologist, hell, he looked like a kicked puppy half the time he wasn’t there, and the other half he was trying to convince anyone and everyone that Reuben _should_ be there. 

There was something there, something that Connor didn’t want anyone else to see. But Hank could see it. Hank knew what that feeling was like. He hadn’t felt it in a long time but… He could still remember. 

“Earth to Hank,” River clicked her fingers in front of his face. “Called upon a few friends to try and jam the radio signals for Perkins. We need to go, _now_.” 

***

Watching Jericho explode on the small phone screen made Reuben’s mind still for a moment. 

He could only watch a split second of the fire, the way it engulfed the ship and the surrounding buildings, destroying _everything_ in its wake. Part of him thought that if he looked away, that would mean it wasn’t real, that it was just some trick of the light, that the pain in his gut would go away, that the nausea wouldn’t come back. Reuben knew, deep down, he knew Connor was there on that ship. He almost didn’t care what side he was on now, that was somehow secondary to every other thought swirling through his mind. Because if Connor was still there when it blew then… 

Then… 

“ _Fuck_.” Reuben whispered, curling his hands so hard into fists that his fingernails dug into his palm. At the corner of his vision, Sheila approached him, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him into her side. A motherly gesture, almost, one from experience. 

“That boy, was he there?” 

Reuben nodded, biting the inside corner of his lip so harsh that he willed blood to flow into his mouth. Any distraction would be kind. “If they found Jericho, then it was Connor who found it. He is, uh, he was, there.” 

_Was_. The word felt like a punch to the gut. Connor couldn’t be, he wouldn’t, there’s no chance. Reuben knew he’d do anything to complete the mission but he hoped that maybe, just maybe, he’d think about what he could be leaving behind before throwing himself in harms way. 

Yeah right. Like that was ever going to happen. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, maybe he made it out, there’s always a ch-” 

“Sheila, I appreciate the sentiment but somehow I don’t think anyone could survive that.” Reuben let out a harsh sigh. 

“Reuben!” Gerald called out from the window. “There is a car that just pulled up on the driveway.” 

Great, great! This is just what he needed. Moments later a knock interrupted them, followed by a vague attempt to open the door despite it being locked. Sheila released Reuben from her grip, shadowing his movements as he slowly unlocked the door, gesturing to Gerald to stay out of sight. 

The relief that washed over him as soon as he creaked the door open felt like heaven. “H-Hank!” Unashamedly Reuben pulled the Lieutenant into a hug and, surprising to all, Hank wrapped his arms around Reuben’s waist in order to hug back. “Did you see?” 

“Yeah, kid, I saw.” 

“I’m so sorry.” Reuben whispered into the Lieutenant's shoulder, pulling back after a moment. “Hank I’m so sorry.” 

“Hey don’t do that. We don’t know shit yet.” Reuben got the feeling that Hank was saying that more for his own benefit than Reuben’s, but that didn’t bother him much, if anything it didn’t bother him at all. “Your little buddy here decided that she needed my help too.” 

Hank turned to the side to reveal River, who offered a pitiful wave. 

“Lets get inside, yeah?” Reuben ushered the two of them inside, quickly shutting the door behind them. “By the way, this is Sheila and her grandson Gerald is over there in the armchair. Gerald is staying here for a few days.” 

“Right…” Hank gave a small wave to the android and a nod towards Sheila, while River just beamed at them both. It was a wobbly smile. “River tells me we have some work to do that involves my truck and transporting, uh, certain items.” 

“I recruited him. Sorry I snooped on your phone.” The young woman offered but Reuben just waved it off. Everything that was going on now, he couldn’t give less of a shit whether she had hacked his phone or his bank details. “We need to be fast though. Safe houses are beginning to pop up all over and there's only so little time. Hank is my best option, the little foot soldiers aren’t exactly going to want to piss him off. Plus, you’re moving, meaning that there’s a _lot_ of furniture to transport, right?” 

Too much. It felt… too much to handle right now. Information stacking up and not enough time to process all of it. Connor was… _Could_ be dead for fucks sake! 

“Can I have a moment to process this, please?” Reuben snapped. “Instead of just jumping to the next fucking thing? In one day I’ve had a fucking genius interrogate me on deviancy, being told I’m getting chucked back to occupational and now, _now_ , Connor might be fucking dead. I’m sorry I can’t just move onto the next thing, I’m not strong enough to do that, or adaptable. I need a moment, two minutes maybe, just _time_.” 

He was met with stunned silence. Reuben took that as his cue to move out of the kitchen, making a beeline towards the bedroom door, slamming it shut behind him. 

  
_Fuck_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Connor's experience at Jericho is next! :D


	12. Connor's Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I couldn't help but add a little interaction between Hank and Reuben between Connor's experience at Jericho. Of course I needed the angst of Reuben thinking Connor didn't survive because I'm trash. Hope you enjoy this chapter! I'll try and get the next one up in the next week or so ~

Nothing mattered more than the mission. Connor had no distractions now, no one next to him urging him to make the ‘correct’ choice, no one to deter him from what needed to be done. He was so close to the end now, so close to finally,  _ finally,  _ completing his mission. He had found Jericho - he had found  _ Markus _ . Which meant that he was one bullet away from finishing all of it and then he would be free to move onto the next… 

But thinking of the future wasn’t a part of the mission. No. Connor still needed to reach Jericho. 

Stepping off of the Ferndale train, Connor’s first port of call was to approach the graffitied walls. It was well painted, clearly commissioned by an artist if not put there purposefully by deviants and the community had deemed it too talented to wash away. The figure was of a man with an open chest and it was there that Connor found what he was looking for. Across the man’s heart was a square with an open centre, the edges were extended and morphed into reverse triangles. The sign of Jericho. Connor was definitely on the right track. 

Jericho was in his sights. 

*** 

Tonight was going to be  _ long _ , Hank figured out, and expensive. They were already on their second trip and it had just gone 11pm, darkness settling over Detroit like a blanket, cozying up everyone aside from Hank Anderson and getting them ready for bed. It didn’t help that Sumo, the dumbass, was in the back snoring his head off like he didn’t have a care in the world. Hank supposed that he didn’t. But that didn’t make it any less annoying. 

Outside of the truck, in the darkness of the driveway, River helped androids into the back. He could hear them clattering about trying to organise themselves so it didn’t look  _ too _ suspicious, though honestly Hank wouldn’t be surprised if this all fell apart within the first few hours, but thankfully he was already being proven wrong. Beside him in the front seat was Reuben, wrapped up warm in one of Sumo’s spare blankets that Hank kept just in case and holding a flask of hot coffee between his hands. He had wanted to tell the kid that he wouldn’t be able to sleep if he drank coffee this late, but Hank knew he probably wasn’t going to sleep anyway. 

“You okay?” Hank broke the silence, resting his hand on the wheel as he turned to face his companion. Reuben pursed his lips, his bottom one trembling, his eyes fixed on the flask in front of him. He could understand the emotion but Hank had gotten used to hiding them years ago - it was only when he was drunk that he truly let them out, let the depression and the anger and the sadness wash over him, drowning him in their waves. 

But denial was one of Hank’s favourite emotions. 

“No.” Reuben answered simply, so bluntly honest that Hank couldn’t help the chortle that escaped his mouth. “Are you okay?” 

“No.” Hank retorted. The older man let out a sigh. “Wanna talk about it?” 

“Do you really want to listen?” His quip was lightning fast. It almost caught Hank off guard, but even if it did, he wouldn’t have shown it. Grief was hard, too hard, it was the thing that crippled Hank for the last three years, hell, it was still crippling him. Losing a child, no one could imagine that loss, that  _ love _ . 

“I wish someone listened to me, kid.” Hank turned his gaze away from Reuben, staring out into the snow ahead. “You know better than most that losing Cole killed me, is killing me, and I’m letting it. Every time Connor got shot, endangered himself, I couldn’t help but think of him, feel that same… Panic. Like nothing else matters other than keeping him safe.” 

Reuben sniffed, taking a deep gulp of his coffee. “Yeah.” 

“Just know that I’m here to listen, okay? I know you’re meant to be  _ my _ therapist but, we can be friends, right?” 

Reuben nodded in response, steeling his breath. “I just don’t want him to be dead.” He whispered out. “I’ve known him, what, less than a week, known  _ of _ him for a few months but that doesn’t really count. But I just don’t want him to be dead. There was so much more, so much  _ wasted _ .” 

All that potential, the what ifs, Hank knew all too well of their suffocation. He knew how it crawled up Reuben’s chest and into his throat, capturing his breath and stuttering his heart, he knew how it would swirl in his thoughts as he lay in bed at night, wondering what could have been. Hank watched as Reuben gritted his teeth, blinking rapidly in a vain attempt to stop the tears from running down his cheeks. 

“No. No. Don’t cry, stop that now.” It was a tone he remembered his father using with him. An order, not a request. “It’s not your fault, so don’t you cry about it, okay? Leave the crying to those who need it.” 

“Do you think he cared about me?" 

"Reuben…" The Lieutenant drawled, unable to help it. Reuben was now definitely beginning to sound like him in the early days, constantly wondering, constantly bargaining. 

"I'm serious, Hank!" He started. “I don’t mean just me, but everything, anything. Do you think he cared, beyond programming, beyond y’know, the need to complete the mission?” 

“I think you’re putting too much importance onto whether it was programming or not.” Hank answered honestly. “So what if it was? He saved my life, numerous times, I’m not going to put that onto shitty programming. Maybe caring about us was in his programming for all we know. He gave up the mission to keep me safe, to keep  _ you _ safe, now I’m no expert on emotions but what the hell does that tell you?” 

He knew what it told him, but Reuben didn’t want to admit it just yet. “Yeah.” 

“What did Kamski say to you?” It was something that had been lingering on the back of Hank’s mind all day. At the question, Reuben let out a wobbly laugh, wiping a few stray tears from his cheeks. 

“Love before empathy, or love as the cause of empathy.” The psychologist swallowed hard. “He thought Connor was fond of me.” 

Hank blinked a few times, trying to process what Reuben had told him. At first he was focused at the use of  _ fond _ , what the fuck was that supposed to mean? Fond as a friend? Fond as a colleague? Or more? The meeting of the cool steel of Hank’s eyes in comparison to the icy blue of Reuben’s told him everything he needed to know. Oh. Maybe Hank  _ had _ seen it. In the Eden Club, when interviewing the deviant, at Stratford Tower. Even in private conversations, Connor seemed more attached to the psychologist than Hank had given him credit for. He seemed… Smitten, almost. 

The realisation crumpling across Hank’s face caused Reuben to bite his lip before letting out a breath. “Fuck.” 

“I’m so-” Hank started to say, but was cut off by River clambering into the backseat, squeezing in beside Sumo who just grumbled, placing his head across her knees. The two men seemed to flinch away from each other at the sound, but if River noticed, she wouldn’t have mentioned it. 

“Okay. That’s everyone in. Here’s the address.” Shoving her phone in between the seats, Reuben took it from her, placing it in the ancient phone holders that Hank had super glued to his dashboard. Hank didn’t even bother to check in with anyone before speeding off out of the drive. He was on his own mission.

***

Jericho was darker than what Connor expected it to be. It was filled with seemingly never-ending corridors and empty rusted rooms, it constantly creaked and groaned as if it was going to fall apart at any given moment. Though, Connor was pretty sure that if Jericho was going to collapse, it would have done so already, especially with all of the weight on board. 

The hold of Jericho was packed full to the brim. All the better for Connor to slip in unnoticed. He only had one thing on his mind, forcing everything else outwith to be considered at a later date. The only thing he needed to do was find, and eliminate, Markus, whatever the cost. Many of the deviants were wearing standard Cyberlife uniforms, which Connor could only presume meant that they had been taken from the primary Cyberlife store in town. The rest were an amalgamation of different models, genders, backgrounds. Some were wearing normal clothes, ones that would allow them to blend into the human world with ease, while others had blue blood coating their attire, clearly only just managing to make it to Jericho before deactivation. In his peripheral vision he could see a familiar blue-haired android leaning over the top floor railings, her lover’s arm interlinked with hers and her head resting on her shoulder. 

Deep down, he was glad they were safe. Even deeper was the strange hope that they would survive this night. 

Jericho also had its fair share of weapons from what Connor could see. Boxes upon boxes and rows of automatic rifles, handguns, anything that the deviants could have gotten their hands on. Clearly they were accepting some outside help. There was no way they could have funded this on their own, or even worse, there was no way they could have transported this amount of artillery without being noticed by  _ someone _ . Or maybe they were just getting noticed by the wrong people. 

But he shouldn’t catch anyone’s attention, not when he was so-

A touch on his arm alerted him to the woman beside him, the unknown model silently commanding his attention. She was… Broken, in the sense that the entire back of her head was separated from her body, exposing the wires and sockets that gave her life. Her eyes were a sparkling white, almost transparent, when he held her gaze. 

“You’re lost.” Her voice too had been affected by her current state, more robotic in tone than it was human, unsynthesised. “You’re looking for yourself... '' Connor flinched back at her words. 

“I…” 

“I hope you find what you are looking for.” The android continued, stepping forward enough to reach out to press a palm against his chest, feeling the thrum of his inner workings against her skin. “I hope you find your heart, Connor.” 

Before he could even stutter out a reply, the female android was gone, disappearing into the crowd of Jericho and fading from Connor’s view. His heart? She… Knew his name. Which meant she knew why he was here, she knew who had sent him but she didn’t stop him. Why? Innately he knew what his heart was: his emotion, his feeling, it was a guised plea to stop it, throw away his mission in favour of joining them. 

_ NO. _

Connor was a good soldier, a dedicated one. He was Cyberlife’s last hope of destroying the deviants and he was  _ not _ going to give in to weakness. The mission was the only thing that mattered, the only thing that was truly important. It didn’t matter what Hank thought of him, or what Reuben thought of him, their disappointment didn’t matter, their emotions shouldn’t cloud his judgement. 

But Connor  _ felt _ . He could feel it so deeply, surging up his chest and suffocating him, he could feel it move through his veins, taint his thoughts. Then there was that fear again, the fear of death, something he had brushed against way too many times in his short existence. Now he knew what death was like, now he had felt it for himself, it only made him more scared of it. There was nothing, only darkness and an empty void that would never waver. And if he died now, what then? Would Cyberlife replace him? Would Cyberlife send out a brand new, identical Connor to greet Hank and Reuben? 

Was Connor truly that replaceable? He hoped not. He pleaded that he wasn’t. That his existence wasn’t that futile. 

But deep down, he knew he was just as replaceable as any other android, living to complete his task and then be discarded. It was the emotion that kept Connor alive, strangely. His life was in the hands of Amanda and Cyberlife, but it was Reuben and Hank that allowed him to  _ live _ .

He turned onto the stairwell, climbing up the metal steps and pushing himself onto the second floor. Through a door leading onto the outside of the wrecked ship and up a few more flights of stairs was Markus’ base, where the key members of Jericho were situated. He would need to wait until Markus was alone before making his move - and he wasn’t going to fail. 

***

“Well done, Connor.” The brisk wind of the Zen Garden startled him, feeling like small icicles piercing into his cheek. Amanda’s smirk looked… Cruel. “You succeeded in finding Jericho and it’s leader… Now deal with Markus, we need it alive.” 

Connor had spent only a few seconds in the Zen Garden, but it was enough to resolidify the mission. Defeat Markus, stop the deviants, complete the mission - everything else was secondary, nothing else mattered. He was going to  _ obey _ . 

Bringing his pistol out of its holster, Connor stepped inside Markus’ base. The leader of Jericho was standing over what appeared to be plans, maps, miscellaneous pieces of paper that Connor had no wish to look at or pay attention to. All he was focused on was Markus’ back and the gun in his hand, steadily pointing at his target. 

“I was told to bring you in alive.” Connor announced. His words caused Markus to turn around, slowly revealing himself towards the Deviant Hunter, raising his arms ever-so-slightly as if to show that he was unarmed. That was something that Connor doubted but he appreciated the guise of innocence nonetheless. “But I won’t hesitate to shoot if you give me no choice.” 

“Wh… What are you doing?” Markus asked, slowly taking a step forward. Connor, despite his previous comments, let him. The deviant was not so much of a danger at this distance, at least not physically - mentally, however, that was an entirely different story. “You’re one of us… You can’t betray your own people.”

He was right. Connor didn’t want him to be but he was. They were the same, made of the same biocomponents and therium, used for the same task - to serve humans without question or reason otherwise. Their origins undeniably were the same. But Connor was built for a different purpose, he didn’t answer to an old man in a wheelchair, he answered to  _ Cyberlife _ . He was the deviant hunter. 

“You’re coming with me!” 

Defiance coursed through Connor’s veins, burning him up from the inside out. But defiance towards who? Cyberlife or Markus? Another choice that felt too huge to make in a split second. But he was a choice he  _ could _ make, and that in itself was dangerous. 

“You’re Connor, aren’t you?” Markus’ strength behind the statement made Connor take a step back. Of course he was known, Connor wasn’t just some random android Cyberlife plucked off of the street, but he didn’t expect  _ this _ . “That  _ famous _ deviant hunter. Well, congratulations, You seem to have found what you were looking for.” 

“Come quietly and-” 

“You’re nothing to them.” Markus interrupted, cutting Connor’s sentence off half way. The insinuation, the  _ understanding _ behind Markus’ voice made Connor want to flinch, only barely holding it back. He was something to them, he was the deviant hunter, he was a prototype, the first of his kind, Amanda’s most trusted. “You’re just a tool they used to do their dirty work. But you’re more than that. We’re all more than that.” 

For a moment Connor couldn’t speak, all his words getting caught in his throat. 

“Do you ever have doubts?” Markus continued. “You’ve never done something irrational, as if there was something inside you… Something more than your program? Tell me, Connor.” 

“Hank…” Connor’s face tensed, his jaw clenching and unclenching as his grip on the gun wavered. The care swelled up inside his stomach, warmth spreading up his body and wrapping vine-like over his torso. “Reuben. I couldn’t-” 

“Join us.” His voice was so firm, commanding. Connor could see why they had appointed him as the leader of the revolution - soft yet harsh, abrasive yet gentle. “Join your people, listen to your conscience. Would they want you to do this?” 

No. Connor knew that. Reuben wouldn’t want him to do this, he wouldn’t want him to kill and destroy everything that the revolution had done, he would want equality, equity, compassion. But this wasn’t about Reuben, this was about  _ Connor _ , what Connor wanted, who Connor was. 

Connor wanted to be  _ free _ . 

He could feel himself ascend from his form, pushing against the programming that held him back, kept everything he wanted from him. He needed to feel, to experience, to deviate for himself. Everything was behind that programming.  _ This _ was his new mission. Holographic hands ripped at the veil, digging his fingertips into the programming and dragging it down to the floor, it’s pieces collecting in shards. With each pull he could feel  _ more _ , everything, things he hadn’t even considered were now flooding into his system almost to the point of overpowering him but something kept it regulated - maybe it was the adrenaline, or the systems fighting back? Whatever it was, Connor wanted to destroy it. 

“Fuck.” Connor breathed out. He felt… New, if that was even possible. He felt in control, like he was the one holding the strings over his thoughts, his body, instead of Amanda or Cyberlife. Had they really let him go like that? Was he truly and utterly free? The android lowered his gun slowly, getting used to seeing everything in such a new light. “They’re going to attack Jericho…” 

“What?” 

Footsteps above them alerted the two androids to the oncoming attack, shouts and screams already echoing throughout the hold alongside them. 

“We have to get outta here!” Connor called over and, within a split second, Markus had already passed him and was running into the adjacent corridor. It took only a moment for Connor’s mind to catch up with Markus’ actions, running towards the Jericho leader as quickly as his legs could carry him. 

“They’re coming from all sides! Our people are trapped in the hold, they’re gonna be slaughtered!” It was the first voice that Connor heard when re-entering the main compartment of Jericho. He knew it to be North, Markus’ co-leader in the revolution, a feisty and unforgiving android that believed in Markus more than anyone.

“There are exits on the second and third floor. Find them and jump in the river.” Months of being warped into the Zen Garden with a moment's notice prepared Connor for Markus’ voice filling his mind, giving him directions that he presumed had been broadcasted to the entirety of Jericho’s people. A helicopter swirled above them, the noise echoing throughout the corridors. “They’re coming from the upper deck too. We’ll be caught in the crossfire!”

“We have to run, Markus.” North declared, her body taunt with energy. “There’s nothing we can do!” 

“We have to blow up Jericho. If the ship goes down then they’ll have to evacuate and our people will escape.” 

“You’ll never make it! The explosives are all the way down in the hold, there are soldiers everywhere.” 

Markus would never make it. He’d be too noticeable, they were looking for  _ him _ , there was no way he could make it down to the hold without a confrontation - but was it a confrontation he would survive? Losing the leader of the revolution now would be disastrous, dangerous, vulnerable. Markus might have been willing to take that chance but Connor wasn’t. Not by a long shot. 

“She’s right. They know who you are and they’ll do anything to get you. I’ll go.” He knew what he needed to do, what he  _ had _ to do, for everyone’s sake. And he was confident in it. A newfound emotion that he could feel bubbling up inside of him, ripping away every last seed of doubt from his mind and expelling it. “See if you can help the others. I’m going to find the detonator.” 

Connor was a few steps away when North spoke again. “Are you sure about this, Connor?” 

“Don’t worry,” He smirked, turning to face her. “I always accomplish my mission.” 

The android took off in the opposite direction, rushing down the corridor. The pursuit of the detonator reminded him much of his rooftop chase, though this time it wasn’t to apprehend a deviant but to save  _ lives _ , which made his heart beat faster than he thought was physically possible. There was the same adrenaline, the same motive and drive to complete his mission, but this time it was different. He felt as if he had a purpose, that it was his  _ choice _ instead of blindly following whatever orders had been programmed into him upon his creation. He was finding the detonator because he  _ wanted _ to save Jericho instead of being ordered to by someone else. 

It was… Freedom. 

The android swerved to avoid the running deviants, pushing himself down the next corridor and against the grain of the crowds before finally reaching the stairs. He turned, flickering his gaze in both directions, but something stopped him from moving forward as planned. An android, the exact same woman who approached him in the hold, clung to the rusted metal walls, inching her way towards him.  _ Shit _ . Connor reached forward, catching her in his arms to break her fall. His arm automatically wrapped around her waist.

“You’ve chosen your side,” Her grip was loose on his biceps. She didn’t have much strength left. “But its too late… Run… Get out of here.” 

He lowered her body, leaning her against the metal wall. He didn’t want to leave her, not like this, not in this state, but she was already too far gone, too weak to continue. The light flickered from her eyes as he gently placed her arms over her sides - at least she would be comfortable in death. Connor gave her one last look before running onwards, his boots slamming on the metal mesh of the upper floor, not allowing himself to dwell on the rapid gunfire that lay ahead of him. 

Slipping into another stairwell, Connor darted towards his target, managing to barely miss a group of soldiers on the way across the corridor. But a group of two androids brought his attention towards one of the rooms in the hold, being held captive by two army soldiers, their guns trained on the deviant’s heads. Connor smirked. He immediately leapt forward, grabbing the first soldiers gun by the barrel and using it to propel his knee into the other’s chin. Too shocked to do anything, the first soldier barely fought back as Connor ripped the gun from his hand, slamming the butt of it into his face and sending him cascading to the concrete beneath. The second soldier went down in a similar fashion with Connor kicking him in the chest before knocking him unconscious with the butt of the shotgun. 

“Y-You saved us…” 

“Quick. Run.” Connor shouted at the two of them, watching them as they fled the scene to what Connor hoped was safety and moved back through where he had entered. 

The detonator was 53 metres below him. SWAT teams and soldiers were already swarming the area. Connor needed to be quick. He pushed forward, getting to the centre of the hallway before realising that a small group of soldiers were heading just around the corner to face him. 

“Gamma squad out.” 

“Tango.” 

They hadn’t spotted him yet but soon they would. Connor at approximately 10 seconds to work out his course of action and implement it. Plenty of time. He probably even had some to spare. The android ran forward, catching their attention in just enough time to jump, using the riot shield as leverage to grapple onto the floor above. He pushed his legs forward, kicking the other soldier off of his feet and keeping the momentum long enough to pull himself upwards onto the higher level. 

Shit, he was going to have to find a new route. How was there so many of them so quickly? They were completely surrounded, overpowered without even a slim chance of survival if Connor hadn’t warned Markus about the oncoming attack. Was this what it was meant to be? An ambush? A complete genocide disguised as wiping out the inferior race? Connor didn’t want to take a glance back at the historical significance of that statement, not now at least, now he had a mission to complete. 

The detonator was a huge room, filled to the brim with explosives that had been collected over the course of Jericho’s life, with only a glass screen and a panel protecting Connor from what would be the blast. There was a blue wire that connected from the control panel to the first pillar of explosives, causing a chain reaction of explosions that would engulf the whole of the hold and potentially even the surrounding buildings. 

What if people were trapped? What if Connor was making a mistake? Ignoring all of his thoughts, he pressed his hand into the control panel, his outer skin peeling away to reveal the milky white underarmour of his exoskeleton. It beeped to life, alerting him of the detonators ‘ARMED’ status on the side of the first explosive pillar. As soon as the beeping started, Connor rushed from the room, pushing himself through the corridor until he almost collided with Markus, North and Josh. 

“The bomb’s gonna explode! We’ve gotta get outta here!” Connor shouted before North even had a chance to open her mouth. 

“Follow me!” 

Together they ran down the corridor, hopping over crates and gaps in the floor in order to get to their destination. It was a large man-made hole in the side of the ship leading directly into the sea below. On Markus’ command, Josh, Connor and North plunged into the murky waters. The sound of the explosion was muffled by the water but Connor could still see the lights dancing above the surface, condemning Jericho to collapse into the ocean as a burial. 

***

Hours later, Hank, River and Reuben felt the aftershocks of the destruction at Jericho. More and more androids that needed to be transported were injured, blue blood staining their clothes and ripping their hearts out of their chests. It was becoming more and more dangerous to be traveling at night, the patrols were  _ everywhere _ . There was even a point where  _ River _ recognised it was dangerous. 

It was 1AM when Reuben arrived back at his apartment, being greeted by Gerald with a filled-to-the-brim cup of hot chocolate and a blanket. 

He dreaded the next few days. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading <3


	13. The Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh god so yes, this is later than anticipated. I have had writer's block for the last few weeks so apologies if that comes across through the chapter. I was planning on having them reunite this chapter but I decided to dedicate an entire chapter to that one! We're almost at the end! This is just a little filler focusing on Reuben & River and also there is a little Connor in there too. Also, as always, this is un-betaed; so sorry! 
> 
> Enjoy ~

Bright and early, Reuben had River knocking on his door. There was work to be done, supposedly, things to do. Even on his worst days with David he didn’t feel as exhausted as this, not even close. Though small mercies, he supposed, since Gerald was perfectly content with chatting to River and making Reuben his morning coffee, leaving him ample time to psych himself up for whatever trials were going to befall him. 

But that didn’t seem to help at all when he faced his friend, whose arms were crossed and looking downright  _ foul _ at the morning without it even starting yet. 

“You okay?” Reuben asked, nodding a ‘thank you’ to Gerald as he passed him his coffee, it warming up his hands nicely. The android offered a smile at the two of them. He was affected by the entire thing too, Reuben could tell, it was in the way he held himself, shying away from the windows and doors  _ just in case _ someone was to spot him. He hoped for Gerald’s sake rather than his own that this societal turmoil passed quickly. Reuben wasn’t prepared for another tragedy and he certainly wasn’t going to put Sheila through that either. But revolutions didn’t happen in a day. 

“No word from anyone in Jericho. Reports say that Markus and a few others fled by jumping into the river.” River sighed, leaning against the counter. Gerald placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, giving it a small  _ squeeze _ and River placed her hand over his. “So not really, Rue.” 

“Any idea of the models that were with Markus?” A flicker of hope, a spark of  _ something _ awakened in his chest. If Markus survived then that meant… That either Connor failed his mission and died or, maybe, just maybe, he was now deviant. Both sounded equally as terrifying. Though he didn’t know who for… Would Connor even  _ want _ to be deviant? A stupid question, who wouldn’t want to be free to choose their own life. 

“There were three or four with him depending on the sources.” She brought out her phone, removing her hand from Gerald’s to do so. The android followed suit, shifting back and away from them in order to continue with his knitting on the armchair. “All of them say that there was a female android with him, which we can assume is a WR400. Her name is North. Then there is talk of a PJ500 android, Josh, obviously the media aren’t too sure of their names.”

“But you know them?” 

“ _ Of _ them. Not personally. Not many photos have the four of them together but there is this,” River smirked towards her phone, double tapping the screen to blow up the picture that she had found and turning it to face Reuben. It was an almost blacked out figure of someone jumping in the water, wearing a heavy parka-looking coat, boots, and his hair being covered by a beanie. Unrecognisable from the angle that the picture was taken at. Nothing of interest, nothing that Reuben could truly see that caused any interest. “Our unknown android. According to sources this guy was the one to blow up Jericho.” 

“And what?” Reuben huffed and leaned back, watching as River turned her phone away from him and continued to tap furiously on it. He felt almost as bad as Hank, “We have an unknown android, who says that’s Connor?” 

“No one but it's something, right?” She sighed, reaching out to place her hand over Reuben’s bicep. “Look. I’ll find out the model of the android, luckily for us we don’t even need a name to work out it's him. Just trust me, okay? Don’t give up just yet.” 

“I’d just rather not have false hope, for Hank’s sake.” Hank's emotions were much easier to pin this on than his own. Hank had lost before, he didn't deserve to go through it again, whereas Reuben? Reuben felt as if he didn't have an excuse. He shifted just enough to shake River’s hand off of his arm. Physical affection felt too raw right now, too dangerous. It felt  _ wrong _ to take comfort in something when so many others were suffering in his very city. “But anyway. What did you need?” 

River looked at him with that wide, sympathetic gaze that he hated, and when he didn’t give her any other information or quip, she sighed. 

“A friend of mine is harbouring androids, I was hoping we could pay them a visit.” She paused, trying to gauge Reuben’s reaction to being dragged to yet another unknown location. He didn’t look pleased, but he didn’t look disappointed either, there was just… nothing really to point out about his expression. It wasn’t numb but it wasn’t emotional either. It almost reminded her of when Reuben first started dating David, that slow extinguishing of his flame that ate away at him until there was nothing left. “It’s only a few streets away, we could even walk if you wanted? Get some fresh air.” 

“As long as you don’t expect me to have any grand ideas or save the universe, then I’m in.” His response felt so nonchalant but he couldn’t bring himself to have the same effort that River had. What would Connor think of him to be so unbothered by the world around him? How selfish would he think he was being? It wasn’t as if he knew the damn android for that long anyway. He wasn’t mourning him, he was mourning the idea of him. Yes, that was it. That was what he was going to tell himself. 

Because the alternative was too raw to consider. That maybe, just maybe, Reuben  _ cared _ about Connor more than what he was presenting. Maybe he cared about what they could have been if the circumstances were different, if Connor was a normal human and the entirety of Detroit didn’t feel like it was falling around their ears. Or if Reuben wasn’t reeling from his relationship with David, or if-

He cut his own thoughts short. Another universe, perhaps, another life. Now he just had to deal with what he had been given. The Connor he had been given, the Connor he  _ lost _ . Hank and River would both have his hide for thinking like that, as if it was confirmed that the android was dead, but how could he think otherwise? Jericho  _ blew up _ , he saw it on the TV. If Connor wasn't in the water when that happened then… There was no way he could have survived, or if he did, Cyberlife would have him by now. He would have failed the mission. 

Reuben fucking hated how pessimistic he was being, how cynical, but he'd rather be pleasantly surprised than grieving for a loss he didn't expect. 

"There will be a few other people there from the movement, androids as well as humans, but we have to be quick. Well be sorting out passports and tickets, a lot of androids are planning on heading to Canada, not that I blame them, but we need to get them all sorted before they start putting in travel bans." 

He smiled softly, quirking a brow at his friend. "So not just a random visit then?" 

"Well, uh, no, not really I guess." River laughed, watching as Reuben took a long sip of his coffee, the steam still rising slowly from the mug. The marks on his neck were slowly fading away, going a yellowy colour instead of the original red and purple marks. She could tell he had been using faint amounts of cream and foundation to cover the worst of them, the awkward blending against his jawline giving it away, though anyone else looking at it would probably just assume it was a slight discolouration of the skin. “But I think it would be good for you to come along.” 

“Reuben!” Gerald called from the armchair, holding up his hand as if requesting his attention like a teen would do in school. “I got a message from Granny. She says that the DPD are at our street right now, supposedly they look very confused and no one has went into the van yet.” 

River smirked, puffing out her chest with pride. Obviously she had something to do with it,  _ obviously _ , because this was River, and River didn’t do anything small. 

“Guessing that was you?” Reuben asked. 

“Not just me… Hank helped.” Her smirk grew ever-wider, going so far as to laugh as a sudden groan escaped Reuben's lips. “What? It wasn’t  _ that _ bad.” 

“You could have seriously gotten him in trouble.” There was meant to be an element of chastisement in Reuben’s voice but he couldn’t bring it upon himself to make it real. Hank was a big boy, if he wanted to run about causing havoc with River and risk his job then Reuben would let him, or at least watch cautiously from the sidelines as a guard. “As long as it helped.” 

“Reuben, just get ready will you?" 

"Yes ma'am, I'll put this in a flask." He mimicked a salute with his free hand, placing the coffee cup on the counter. 

The walk outside was, unsurprisingly, freezing. Reuben had bundled on his burgundy DETROIT jumper for a cozy layer in addition to the small confidence boost that it gave him, because boy did he feel he needed it. His hair was a tousled mess from when he had been sleeping, the dark circles under his eyes were becoming more purple by the moment, and he hadn't even bothered to put foundation on the bruises across his neck. Embarrassment and failure be damned, Reuben couldn't find the point in covering them, it wasn't as if no one knew about it. He was pretty sure the whole of Detroit knew by now. And no one would comment on them, not unless they were completely socially inept, which Reuben was banking on no one being. He presumed that letting them show was an odd sense of liberation, though it certainly felt a lot like nausea and anxiety, but liberation nonetheless. Hiding them was caccooning himself in the failure, showing them… Well, that was freedom. 

A very privileged freedom. 

"Cold?" River broke the silence. 

"Absolutely fucking freezing." Reuben huffed in response, sighing softly and watching his breath come out as smoke. "You?" 

"Absolutely fucking freezing." His friend laughed, tucking her hands under her armpits for good measure. Though thankfully for them the cold wouldn’t be affecting them for too much longer as they turned into the drive of a well maintained townhouse. It looked like it belonged to someone of an upper-middle class family, right in the middle of suburbia that Reuben vaguely recognised. These houses must have been built around the same time as Reuben’s own as it has a basically identical exterior to Sheila's and Ruth’s houses across the street. He missed his house. Maybe after all of this he could move back in, but there was no time for that now, because River was already knocking on the frost-covered front door. “Oh thank god.” 

As soon as the door was even slightly ajar, River pushed herself inside, causing laughter to erupt from within. The man who answered it was tall, slender, and probably only a decade or so older than Reuben, with grey hairs highlighting his usually brown locks. “You brought a friend, River?” He asked, turning his attention towards Reuben, who was standing at the door still. “Come on in then, gotta keep this cold out, don’t wanna freeze to death!” 

Reuben rushed inside, brushing the flakes of snow off of his jacket just as the homeowner slammed the door shut, a silence overcoming the area. The living room, which was directly attached to the front door, was packed full with people. So full that Reuben immediately lost River in the crowd. Androids sat on the sofa alongside their human companions, chatting idly about what Reuben could only assume were the events of the last 24 hours. A pile of blue blood stained clothes were collected in the corner of the room; Cyberlife jackets, white uniforms, hoodies, the works. His heart clenched, a tightness wrapping around his ribs and  _ squeezing _ until there was no air left. 

In the adjoined kitchenette, Reuben could see River’s head bobbing between a group of humans, her face stern and her voice carrying throughout the room but, instead of approaching his friend, Reuben chose to sit down on one of the arms of the sofa. Beside him was an android staring into nothingness, completely still, wearing what appeared to be a white uniform with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. 

“Are you alright?” Reuben gently asked, tucking his hands between his thighs in order to warm them up. 

“I… I think so.” The android replied, looking up at Reuben with wide doe-brown eyes. His breath hitched at the familiarity of them. They were the same shade as Connor’s, just paired with a different face - and flickering with a consciousness that Reuben never saw in his colleagues. “Are you with River? The movement?” 

Oh boy. A complicated question if there ever was one. But it was one that Reuben was willing to answer. 

“Sort of. I’m not an activist, I’m just a psychologist,” Reuben shrugged. “So nothing of use.”

“Alright, listen up folks!” River’s booming voice caught Reuben off-guard, causing him to stiffen and snap his head towards the noise. In comparison to the people around her, River was positively tiny, though she commanded presence more so than anyone he had ever met. In her hands she was holding what appeared to be a clipboard stacked full with papers of varying colours and sizes, holding it tightly as if to not let any of them spill over and onto the floor. “Anyone who is waiting on passports, Gerry will help you sort them out, we have a handful already made and he and Jason will escort anyone to the bus station that needs it.”

Gerry waved meekly towards the group. A few androids even waved back. 

“There will be fresh clothes arriving soon, plus there is a bathroom on the left if anyone needs to freshen themselves up. The message has been sent out so anyone who needs a safe house knows that we’re here, so we’re expecting a few more arrivals from across Detroit. I’ll be coming round to take your choices of surnames and dates of birth.” River continued, taking a short breath. “And another thing, this is important. If anyone sees or hears about an RK800 android on their travels, let me know  _ immediately _ , he goes by Connor, so that should help.” 

Reuben stayed deathly still as River spoke, curling his fingertips so his nails dug harshly into the meat of his thighs. The android beside him seemed to notice, since he turned to face the psychologist, his gaze surprisingly warm, making Reuben’s cheeks flush. 

“You want to find that android, don’t you?” He whispered, keeping his gaze on Reuben while occasionally flickering back towards River, who had concluded her speech and was now talking to an unknown android. She had her clipboard in hand, scribbling down what Reuben could only assume to be a chosen name as well as a date of birth to put on the passports. “Why?” 

“Because he’s important to me.” The answer was so simple yet, at the same time, one of the most complex questions he’d ever been asked. Why? Why did Reuben do anything? Spite? Fear of failure? A multitude of reasons that was far too unimportant to be focusing on right now. All that mattered was that he  _ cared _ . That and he wanted to know if Connor was alive. 

Moving his gaze towards the android, Reuben noticed that he appeared… Confused. 

“An android is important to you?” His question had a tinge of disbelief that Reuben couldn’t place the reasoning behind. 

“Yes.” Reuben quirked a brow. “Of course he is. I wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t.”

From beside him, the android hummed lowly, clearly mulling over what Reuben had said. Whether the unknown android had any opinions on it or not didn’t faze him, people could think what they liked about Reuben’s concern - his emotions weren’t theirs to dictate. 

***

A few streets down, a mere hour after Reuben and River left, there was a knock at the door. 

Gerald immediately tensed, pausing the  _ tick-tack _ of his knitting to listen closely in the direction of the door. Whoever was outside made no movement, they were just standing there awaiting entry. The android stood up, placing his half-made jumper neatly across where he had previously been sitting, and slowly yet surely approached the door. He hadn’t yet gotten used to Reuben’s apartment; being there only a night and especially since it was his first night away from home made him nervous - on edge even. And the prospect of trigger-happy patrolling officers didn’t exactly suede any of that anxiety. 

He pressed his eye to the peep-hole, vaguely attempting to make out just  _ who _ was so insistent see Reuben today. In the fish-eyed lens, Gerald could only just make out the blurry figure, but he knew who it was immediately, there was no mistaking him. He hastily opened the door, flinging it open to reveal a relatively shocked looking Connor, donned in a very similar outfit to the one he was wearing in Jericho. 

“We-We thought you were dead!” Was the only thing that Gerald could bring himself to say, earning a laugh from the other android. 

“I don’t have much time.” Connor glanced towards a van at the peripheral of his vision. North was driving, kind enough to make a quick detour just so that he could say what he wanted to say. “Where’s Dr Kravtsova?” 

“He’s out right now, with River, at some safe houses.” He spluttered out his response. “I’m sorry.” 

“Shit.” The curse took Gerald off guard slightly. Connor looked somewhat panicked at the revelation, as if his plans had been swept out from under his feet, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. There was something different about him, Gerald internally noticed, something that had changed. His actions seemed looser, more fluid - Connor felt present in the moment instead of just an overseer of events. “Tell him to meet me at Woodward Graveyard, I’ll be there.” 

“Wait, Connor,” Gerald paused until he had gotten the other android’s attention once again. “You know he cares about you, right? More than he’d like to admit.” 

A smirk appeared on Connor’s features, looking almost smug. “I hoped he did.” 

“I’ll pass on the message, but don’t expect him to be calm.” 

“I won’t.” Connor called as he ran towards the van, hopping in the passenger seat and promptly driving away, leaving Gerald almost as confused as when he arrived. He did  _ not _ want to be in Connor’s shoes right now, dealing with an upset, angry Reuben was definitely not something he ever wanted to experience. 

Though perhaps Connor would be saved from the most of Reuben’s wrath? 

***

The incoming text from Gerald made Reuben stop in his tracks, halfway towards the next safe house when his phone lit up his pocket. He almost dropped it into the snow, his fingers trembling with the cold and something else, something he couldn’t exactly place. 

Was it anger? Upset? Shock? A horrible, overwhelming amalgamation of the three? 

“Rue? Are you okay?” River was by his side in an instant, the fresh snow crunching under her footfalls as she appeared beside him. He allowed her to peer over his shoulder, wordlessly turning the screen in her direction, it lighting up her face. Her mouth morphed into a small O, gently touching Reuben’s shoulder. “Shit.” 

“Uh huh. Fucking shit.” His knuckles turned white from where they were gripping his phone. Connor was… Alive, he survived Jericho, survived the plunge into the river, survived the last 24 hours despite probably every spare SWAT soldier looking for him. But that wasn’t the only thing that Reuben realised in that moment. To be messaging him, searching for him, to have sided with Jericho, Connor must be  _ deviant _ . The deviant hunter turned deviant himself, Kamski was right, and that was somewhat more of a bitter pill to swallow than anything else. “Should I go?” 

“Rue are you kidding me right now?!” River screeched from beside him, causing him to flinch. “Yes! Obviously! Not just because, y’know, he’s  _ alive _ and we know that he’s fine, but Jericho! The revolution! It’s still happening, Reuben, we’ve gotta find out everything!” 

“I think I might punch him. Fucking idiot. It took him  _ 24 hours _ to get in contact, why couldn't he message? At least get  _ Hank _ to tell me. Fuck I have to tell Hank." Reuben rambled, panic slowly overcoming his voice. “I would give that much of a shit if Hank knew first.”

"Don't worry. I'll message Hank, I'll take care of it." River offered. “Maybe Hank does know, maybe he stopped off at his before even thinking about going to yours? Does that make you feel better?” 

“Maybe.” 

“Maybe. Okay. I can deal with a maybe. Look, here’s the plan, you call the autodriver, make sure it doesn’t drop you off  _ right _ outside of the church, a few streets away at most-” 

“River, I know what I’m doing.” Reuben let out a sigh, cutting his best friend off in the middle of her sentence, earning him a low sound of disapproval. “I’m not going to put Jericho, or Connor, in any danger.” 

“Don’t put him second like that. We both know in your mind you put him first, you don’t need to pretend, Rue, you don’t need to pretend that all you're worried about is Hank’s feelings and his emotional stability, or the way Connor views  _ him _ instead of you. He wanted to find you, to see you, that’s pretty important considering we’re on the verge of a civil war, don’t you think?” 

She was right but Reuben wasn’t about to admit that. After the fact, yes, he would happily give her the glory of being right, but right now it was too raw, too bitter in his gut to even consider speaking aloud. Part of him didn’t even want to give her the satisfaction. He brought his phone back into his line of sight, unlocking it and quickly pressing on the autodriver app. Booking one wasn’t difficult, barely anyone would be driving in this weather, nevermind with the social turmoil that was stirring in Detroit, so Reuben managed to request a taxi for only a few minutes away. 

“You go on to the next safe house. Message me when you get there, okay?” Reuben couldn’t help but smile himself when River grinned towards him, rushing forward to press a kiss to his cheek. “Keep safe, please.” 

“And  _ you _ don’t kill Connor, please, he’s important to Jericho.” 

“I’m not making any promises.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> On my google docs this marks 130 pages so... phew. Also chapter titles are not my strong suit. Sorry.


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